Charcoal and Moonlight
by Teenwitch
Summary: Grissom and Sara head upstate to solve a murder. While there they uncover small town secrets, and are forced to confront their own intensifying relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** CSI is the property of CBS, Anthony E. Zuiker, and Jerry Bruckheimer.  
**Summary: **Grissom and Sara head upstate to solve a murder. While there they uncover small town secrets, and are forced to confront their own intensifying relationship.  
**Author's Note:** I'm taking a small, much needed break from **An Exercise in Futility** to get some help on a few things. Don't worry, I will update soon. In the meantime, this was just a fun idea I had that demanded attention. I hope you enjoy it.

**Chapter one**

_Carry like a threatened thing your soul away  
And do not look too long to left or right  
For he whose soul wears the strict chains of day  
Will lose it in this landscape of charcoal and moonlight  
__--Judith Wright, 1915-2000_

Streaks of evening light filtered through the half closed blinds, dancing shadows across the bland brown walls, and glinting off the frames of perfectly positioned diplomas and certificates. Empty spaces were occasionally littered with photographs of nameless faces posed in pseudo smiles, hiding their truth behind a blanket of feigned happiness.

"I'm sorry, Gil, I really am. But I have to close the case".

Grissom stared blankly back at the assistant director Conrad Ecklie, who had the grace to look genuinely remorseful as he closed the folder on his desk. His round, bald head shone in the amber glow of his office, a sight that mocked his credibility, and betrayed the sincerity of his expression.

Grissom felt the injustice surge deep within him, affecting him in its raw, unadulterated finality. Cases came and went, and he maintained a façade of detachment until he was labelled cold and heartless. But he felt so utterly consumed by this young girl's death. This girl who would be committed to the earth forever without a proper identity, without anyone to mourn her as her innocence was cut frighteningly short.

"You gave it the best you could. You should be happy with that".

Ecklie was obviously attempting to conclude their meeting as briskly as possible, but Grissom was unable to move. He stared at the man who had once considered himself his rival with mute incredulity, feeling his hands clench around the arms of his chair.

"She's going to be buried without a name, Conrad. How can I be happy about that?"

Ecklie sighed deeply, clasping his hands grimly over the top of his folders. "It's been two months, Grissom. I can't afford to sacrifice any of the lab's resources to a dead end case any longer."

Grissom scoffed. He couldn't help it. It occurred to him that this young, nameless girl epitomised everything that was now wrong with their lab. The politics, the mindless power games, the money, always the money. Never mind the dead, never mind the living. Never mind justice.

"I can't accept that".

Ecklie pressed his lips together, in a thin, hard line of impatience. "You're going to have to, Grissom. It's over."

Grissom rose to his feet, an abrupt movement that rocked the few belongings scattered on Ecklie's desk. "You know what, Conrad? You're wrong. I don't have to accept that. If you gave me more of my team to work with—"

"We've had this discussion before", Ecklie snapped. "They aren't your team anymore. I understand your frustration, but there isn't a lot I can do about that—"

"No", Grissom said shortly, as he came to an inner realisation. "There isn't. But I can".

"Now wait a minute--!"

Grissom started for the door, newfound determination colouring his steps.

Ecklie also rose to his feet, glaring after him with a mounting loss of control. "If you do anything to compromise my decision, so help me God I will fire you—"

"No. You won't", Grissom replied bluntly, opening and closing the door with a resounding slam.

He strode towards his office with long, brisk strides, the bluish light of his inner sanctum unable to comfort him in its familiarity as he finally came to a halt within. He slowly maneuvered around his large desk, riffling through the muddle of casefiles and evaluation forms that made up the bulk of his desk.

He barely paused when he heard footsteps slow and eventually stop outside his door, not even when the gentle, lilting cadence swept through the silence of the room.

"Grissom? What are you doing?"

Grissom glanced up as Sara frowned at him, striding hesitantly to the other side of his desk. Her soft, brown eyes trailed over the mess of paperwork hindering his search, and she lifted a slender eyebrow.

Her natural intuition, and penchant for knowing him better than she ever let on, caused her to gaze at him calmly, hampering her obvious curiosity. "What did Ecklie say about the Jane Doe case?"

"He's closing it", Grissom replied, equally calmly, at last retrieving the offending file from the bottom of the bundle.

Sara nodded slowly, looking infinitely confused. "Uh-_huh_. And why are you looking through her casefile now?"

Sara had also worked the case with him, had empathised with the victim with a human ease he briefly envied, and often wondered at. She found it so hard to relate to others, perhaps a by-product of her own dysfunctional childhood, yet when it came to those lost, she campaigned for their justice without wavering in her conviction.

"Do you remember the name of the town written on those books she was carrying when we found her?"

She had been found facedown in a small lake in one of Henderson's less popular parks. The homeless frequented it regularly, and their Jane Doe had been found with few belongings, in a backpack not far from where her body was located. They had assumed she was homeless herself, which wasn't such a stretch when they took into consideration the state she had been found in. Her clothes were torn and shabby, and it was clear she hadn't bathed for a while. She was severely undernourished, and Doc Robbins had extracted her stomach contents, which revealed that she had not eaten anything of substance for a long time.

"Uh, yeah…" Sara answered slowly. He continued to search for the name in the file, but he knew she would remember it. She had a near photographic memory, and remembered case details with vivid accuracy. "Eildonbrook. Greg looked it up on the computer. It's a small town in Northern Nevada with a population of barely five hundred".

He paused, closing the folder when he saw that she was, indeed, correct. "And we found nothing linking her there?"

"No". Sara looked deeply perplexed, and more than a little concerned. "Grissom, I thought you said that Ecklie closed the case—"

"He did. Do you know where this town is, exactly? Do you think you could get me a map?"

She frowned. "Yeah, of course…"

Grissom nodded. He was sorry he was worrying her, but he wasn't in the mood to explain his motives. "If I left you in charge of the nightshift for a few days, do you think you could handle that?"

Now Sara's eyebrows rose to her hairline. "Wait, Grissom… you can't be serious." She opened her mouth, stepping forward uncertainly. "If you're going to do what I think you're going to do…" She lifted her arms unthinkingly. He knew, to her, that it must have appeared that he'd seriously lost it. "I can't believe you're even… Eildonbrook is four _hours_ away, Grissom. You can't just leave and expect you're going to find something. Why can't you just tell Ecklie about this?"

"The department won't fund it", he said shortly. "He's determined to close on this".

"Okay…" she said carefully. "But—"

"Sara, can I trust you to stay in charge?" he interrupted her flatly. "I need to know that you won't say anything about this".

Sara opened her mouth disbelievingly. "Grissom… Ecklie could _fire_ you".

He smiled humourlessly. "We both know he's not going to".

Her pretty eyes darted over his nervously. He knew the prospect of being in charge thrilled her, and considering the potential damage he'd already done to her career, he thought it was a worthy penance. But something unreadable also flickered behind her eyes, some conflicting emotion he couldn't get a grasp on.

"Okay", she said, measuring her words. "Then I'll come with you".

The thought that she would willingly put her own career on the line just to help him flattered him immensely, but he couldn't allow her to do that. He sighed tiredly. "Sara…"

She narrowed her eyes, and he could see that familiar Sidle temper flaring dangerously close underneath the surface. "Do you really think I want to let this case go any more than you do?" she demanded fiercely. "Do you know where this town is, how to get there? Do you really think you're going to get a small, closeted town to open up and give you all of their secrets without help? You _need_ me."

He hid a small, wry smile. She would never know how true that really was.

"Besides", she added with a shrug, looking away from his piercing gaze. "I still have weeks of leave stored up."

"Sara…" He gazed at her intently, struggling to convey to her the risk she would be undertaking. "Who else am I going to leave in charge?" he prompted, unsuccessfully attempting to appeal to her sense of logic, when he knew that concept had gone out the window as soon as she entered his office.

She rolled her eyes. "You know Sofia would be happy to do it. She'll jump at a chance to be a supervisor again, and she'll do anything to personally stick it to Ecklie".

He had to admit that was probably true. He didn't like the idea of putting Sara in this situation when he couldn't guarantee she would come out of it with her job intact. His own reckless actions were starting to fall under the impending light of reality.

Then he remembered their Jane Doe, and everything she represented.

He didn't realise that he had already opened his mouth and agreed until Sara departed once more from his office.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**Chapter two**

The lulling warmth of the vehicle did nothing to dissuade the sudden panic that overcame Sara when she realised exactly what it was she had agreed to.

She had perhaps just made the stupidest decision of her career, and it had taken over three hours on the winding, endless stretch of road for the reality of the situation to hit her.

This area of northern Nevada was void of the barren, uninviting desert she had come to know as home over the last five years, and instead the roadside teemed with overgrown plant life and looming trees of opulent, rich green and brown, thriving with life and mystery.

She stared distantly out the side window, avoiding any conversation with the brooding man beside her, vaguely wondering if he too, was feeling the sudden weight of the situation.

They had briefly explained things to Sofia, sparing most of the details and the fact that they were chasing what was most likely a dead end lead in an anonymous town four hours from Las Vegas. Okay, so really they hadn't told her anything. Just that Grissom had a sudden, urgent family emergency, and that Sara needed to take some unexpected leave.

If either of them had really thought about it, they might have realised how suspicious that actually sounded.

She had sensed the Jane Doe case was affecting Grissom on a personal level for weeks now, but she had never spoken up about it. It would have been hypocritical of her to criticise him for feeling a personal involvement, and she knew Grissom would never willingly accept her concern. She had maintained her silent vigil in the hope that the case would be solved, and that he would work through it like she herself had done many times.

She had never expected an explosion of this proportion. Grissom normally remained detached, repressing any and all emotion in what she had long ago identified as a safety mechanism. She understood the need for it, and for such an introspective person, it was perhaps the easiest way for him to deal.

Sara had not grown up in a healthy household, but outpourings of emotion were one thing she had not been spared from, despite their negative impact. Her empathy often manifested itself in obsessive, self-damaging behaviour, but she wasn't afraid to show it.

Something detrimental to Grissom's inner world had crumbled, and this was his reaction. She realised that. And at least one reason she had unconsciously decided to tag along on this unprecedented wild goose chase was to keep an eye on him. Perhaps her way of returning the very same favour he had done her a few months ago, after her suspension.

They started to reach what resembled a small town, and Sara shifted in her seat, gaze languidly sliding over the looming landscape as they neared a worn down service station.

Grissom slowed slightly, and they started down what she supposed was Eildenbrook's main street. She had grown up in a small coastal town, but everything had been clustered together, and that had been a quiet but friendly community. Everything here was sparse and isolated, and she could see almost immediately that they were going to have trouble getting information.

Several small, modest shops cluttered the main road, all places of necessity; a general store and post office, a small doctor's office, and a bar. She also spotted the amber neon lights of a motel through the thick trees, and she assumed there was a police station somewhere in the vicinity.

Grissom hadn't told her much of his visit to Jackpot two years ago, but she got the feeling he was not very interested in enlisting the help of the local authorities. She agreed wholeheartedly. This town was even smaller than Jackpot, and she knew their resources had been extremely limited, and their officers had only hindered his investigation.

Grissom came to a halt at the service station, and climbed out to fill up their depleting gas supply.

She was sure they hadn't passed another town for the last two hours. The thought of being that isolated made her inwardly wince. She slowly climbed out of the passenger side after her boss, stretching her cramped limbs, and taking in their surroundings.

The rich scent of pine instantly assaulted her nostrils, and she had to admit that the landscape was beautiful. She glanced at Grissom, who looked distant and contemplative as he refilled the tank. In other circumstances, she might have thought something else of the situation, but she decided that thinking about how close the two of them would be for the next few days was a forbidden subject.

She retrieved her jacket from the back seat, chafing her hands together as she circled the car to lean against Grissom's side. Her breath made tiny puffs of cold air in front of her face, and the sky was already beginning to darken.

"So what's our game plan, exactly?"

They hadn't spoken much on the ride over, and she wasn't sure if it was because he had regretted his decision, to come here or to allow her to accompany him. Whatever his thoughts, it was too late now, and she thought it was about time they decided how they were going to go about this.

Grissom lifted his eyes to look at her, gazing at her a moment longer than necessary, an unreadable emotion hovering over his face. He cleared his throat, closing the fuel cap slowly. "You make it sound like I know what I'm doing here".

She lifted an eyebrow, folding her arms as she leant back against the side door, taking in his unexpected admission of weakness. "You have had four hours to think about it".

He smiled slightly. "Yes. I have." He sighed deeply, bracing his hand on the side of the vehicle as he gathered his thoughts. "All right. I thought we could ask around. I doubt runaways are particularly common around here".

She nodded, looking down at the ground. She didn't want to ask what they did if nobody knew anything.

He seemed to sense her uncertainty, and attempted to reassure her gently. "One thing at a time, Sara, okay?"

She nodded. She too, had the feeling that the answer to their dead girl's identity was hidden in the underbelly of this small, mysterious town. She just hoped that both of their instincts were right.

0000000000

The bar was reasonably empty for this time of the evening, and apart from the burly, dangerous looking guy behind the counter and a smaller, plump older woman running a towel lightly over the tables, there were only a handful of other patrons scattered inside the smoky interior.

Grissom glanced back at her fleetingly before they approached the polished bar, just as the woman returned, placing the towel under the counter.

"Hello, there", she said, nodding slightly in greeting as she looked up and took note of their appearance. "We don't get many out of towners here. Passing through, are you?"

"You might say that", Grissom replied, leaning one arm casually against the counter. Despite his inability to relate easily to other people, Sara thought he could be very sociable at times. When he had to be.

They had already asked after a missing girl among several residents, all of whom had feigned ignorance at their questions. She was starting to loose her earlier enthusiasm completely, and she hoped this visit proved more fruitful.

She took a moment to watch Grissom as he responded to the woman's query, before propping herself nonchalantly on the edge of the stool beside him.

The woman took her shrewd, wary gaze over to Sara, scanning her with short-lived curiosity. "I'm going to guess you two are from Vegas. What can I get you?"

"We're looking for some information; actually", Sara spoke up, leaning forward slightly. "We were wondering if anyone has gone missing around here over the last year or so?"

The woman lifted her eyebrows. Her red hair was greying at the temples, and her features were crinkled with age, but she didn't look any more than fifty.

"Don't get many people asking questions around here, either", she replied flatly, expression indicating she too intended to remain entirely uncooperative. "You two cops, or something?"

"We're from the Las Vegas Crimelab, actually", Grissom corrected politely.

She gave him a look, as if to say, _what's the difference?_

Sara cleared her throat. "We think that a young girl, maybe sixteen or so, disappeared from here about a year ago".

The woman lifted her eyebrows; expression closing off swiftly and leaving no doubt that she was hiding something. Whether it was merely a fear of outsiders, or something pertaining to their case, though, Sara couldn't be sure. "I'm sorry, but I can't say I know anything about that".

Sara glanced at Grissom doubtfully. They were trained to extract information from people for a living, but she couldn't help thinking that someone like Nick or Catherine would be more useful in this situation. "Are you sure about that? It seems like something that would be a little hard to miss…"

"We keep to ourselves around here", she retorted in a flat, irritable tone, uncovering several glasses from under the counter and setting them out neatly. "Now, do you two want anything, or not?"

Mutely, Grissom shook his head, and Sara politely declined. They strode back out into the cool evening, and her cell phone shrilled loudly before she could voice her mounting frustration. She glanced at Grissom briefly, lifting it smoothly to one ear.

"Sidle".

"Where the hell _are_ you, Sara?"

She sighed when she recognised Greg's familiar voice, tucking her hair behind her ear wearily. "Sofia gave me some lame excuse that you're on leave or something".

Grissom lifted an eyebrow at her, turning to examine the town noticeboard outside the general store, and giving her a little privacy.

"And that's so hard to believe why, Greg?" she demanded, somewhat irritated by how notorious her work ethic was.

Greg simply scoffed, and she could hear the familiar buzz of lab activity in the background. "Please", he said impatiently. "Give me a break. Ecklie's looking for you as well, you know. Especially with Grissom missing too." He took a moment to pause pointedly. "He's not there with you, is he?"

Sara rolled her eyes. Their colleagues were trained investigators, after all. It wasn't as if it would be very hard to figure out.

"It's a long story, okay?" she said irritably. "I just need you to play dumb on this for a while, please?"

"Aren't you going to give me a reason? I can't exactly cover for you if I don't know what I'm covering. Ecklie said something about the Jane Doe case being closed, does this have something to do with that?"

"You know what, Greg, I think you're breaking up", Sara said quickly.

"What? _Sara_—"

"Sorry, Greg, I can't hear you!"

She snapped the phone briskly shut, feeling a surge of inward guilt as she breathed out a heavy sigh, circling back to face Grissom.

He was watching her, looking surprisingly amused by her end of the exchange, and she realised that he had been listening to the whole thing. "Bad reception, huh?"

"Shut-up", she said grouchily, surprised at how easy it was for them to fall back into their old, comfortable relationship when they were away from work.

He smirked slightly, then gestured to something on the neighbouring noticeboard. "You might want to take a look at this".

She stepped towards him slowly, inadvertently brushing against his side as she leant forward, struggling to discern what he was talking about in the dim light.

A yellowing, crumpled old notice was hidden under several other papers, which Grissom lifted aside mutely. The fuzzy, black and white photograph of a young girl was difficult to make out, but the caption underneath was unmistakable and she blinked at their unlikely good fortune.

"Missing: Hayley Barton. Date of birth: 17th October 1988."

"Contact Sylvia Barton with any information", Grissom finished.

She glanced at him, and a slow smile pulled at her lips. "Nice".

He noddedwith a grim sort of satisfaction."I think we have another stop to make, don't you?"

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three**

"Are you sure this place is even still lived in?" Sara asked dubiously, as she and Grissom climbed out of his SUV.

The Barton house was off a rocky back road that was so unused and overgrown it had taken them half an hour to find it, and was a crumbling, dilapidated structure, overrun with weeds and creaking unsteadily in the wind.

As they strode closer, they glimpsed weak, yellow light glowing through blinds cast over the heavy windows, and a faint path was worn through the dense grass leading directly to the decrepit front porch.

The porch creaked in protest under their added weight, and they paused a moment on the doorstep, before Sara reached forward and rapped the doorknocker.

Faint shuffling sounded on the other side, and a frail, hunched old woman who he assumed to be Sylvia Barton slowly opened the screendoor, blinking back at them curiously.

"Oh, hello. How can I help you?"

Unlike the residents they had encountered back in town, Sylvia Barton stared at them with open curiosity, and the difference in her reception struck him immediately. He cleared his throat, feeling incompetent about how to approach the situation. Vigilante investigations were really much more Catherine's forte.

"Hello. I hope we're not disturbing you", he started carefully. "I'm Gil Grissom, and this is Sara Sidle. We're… investigating something we think you might be able to help us with".

She lifted her eyebrows. "Oh, I see. What would that be about?"

"It's about Hayley Barton", Sara offered gently.

"Oh, Hayley", Sylvia said, turning her mouth down sadly. Her blue eyes glittered, but her counternance remained decidedly unmoved. "Yes. She's dead."

Sara lifted an eyebrow, unable to conceal her surprise at the woman's matter-of-fact tone. She glanced at Grissom uncertainly, obviously her attempt to ask him how she responded to such a swift reaction. "Uh, yes… she is", she confirmed hesitantly. "How did… you know that?"

Sylvia sighed patiently. "Her body was found shortly after she disappeared. It was a terrible ordeal for all of us".

Grissom frowned deeply. "Mrs. Barton… would it be all right if we came in?"

She looked genuinely perplexed, but stepped back, holding the door open feebly and allowing them to step inside. "Of course, please do. But I really don't see what I can do to help you…"

She led them into a large living area, covered in dusty, oriental rugs and a vast array of miniature figurines and ornaments. A silver cat mewled docilely, rubbing itself against Sara's legs as it passed. The room carried the distinct, mingled scent of potpourri, dust and urine.

Sara's eyes trailed over to meet his again as the woman turned to retrieve something from a polished oak table, and she couldn't help but reflect her amusement at the situation.

He gave her a small, brief smile in return, and the returning sparkle in her eyes would warm him for many days to come.

Sylvia turned around again to face them, lifting a photograph and stroking the glass lovingly as she held it up for their inspection. "Hayley was my granddaughter", she explained. "She was a beautiful girl. She lived with me after her mother passed on".

Sara lifted an eyebrow, and he too, immediately noticed that they were not following a false lead. The teenage girl in the photograph was unmistakably a brighter, healthier version of the body they had uncovered back in Vegas.

They exchanged a fleeting, subtle glance; mutely agreeing that they would not disrupt this woman's misled beliefs on her granddaughter's fate.

"Please, take a seat", she offered, and they complied, settling side by side on a soft loveseat while the old woman lowered herself into an armchair across from them.

The fire crackled low in the fireplace, lighting the room in a soft amber glow, and Sylvia stared into it distantly.

"Do you mind if we ask… what happened?" Sara asked gently, shifting in her seat beside him. Her warm arm brushed his side, and he forced himself to ignore her proximity, concentrating on the woman in front of them as she nodded, seemingly fully prepared to share her tale. It was obvious that she was lonely in her remote house, and he wondered dimly, if that was to be his fate, sometime in the future, when his work no longer consumed him and he was forced to face the interminable choice he had made for his life; to be alone.

It didn't help that perhaps his only desire to ever alter that bleak fate sat silently beside him, warming his side.

"She wasn't very happy here", Sylvia murmured. "I knew that. Ever since her mother left us… she wanted to get away. She ran away from home when she was sixteen, and she was missing for several weeks… One of the local boys found her at the side of the road. A passing stranger was responsible, the Sheriff told me. She's with God now."

She nodded, firmly, to remind herself of her faith. Grissom felt disenchanted with his own religious upbringing, but couldn't fault others for wanting to find comfort in a being higher than themselves.

Sara glanced at him, as if sensing what he was thinking, before turning back to Sylvia thoughtfully. "Where was Hayley buried, Mrs. Barton?"

Sylvia blinked. "Eildenbrook only has one cemetery, I'm afraid, dear. I would visit her, but I'm just too old to make the trip now".

Sara nodded in commiseration, conveying her natural empathy. Grissom sometimes thought she added a conscience to their group that they had previously lacked before she arrived in Vegas, a quality he now knew came from her own tumultuous past. She was a victim herself, perhaps making her even more qualified than the rest of them in understanding their cases.

"Mrs. Barton, would you mind if I used your bathroom?" Sara asked suddenly.

Sylvia smiled. "Why, of course, dear. It's down the hall on the right".

"Thank you".

She rose to her feet, lifting her eyebrows at Grissom over the old woman's shoulder. Grissom gave a barely discernable nod in response, understanding her intention.

"Would you like anything to drink, young man?" Sylvia asked kindly. "Tea, perhaps?"

"I'm fine, thank you".

He felt vaguely amused to be called a young man. He didn't feel so young anymore. He was around young, energetic colleagues like Greg and Nick everyday, hampered by their enthusiasm and an inward drive he found himself lacking more and more each day. Perhaps it was yet another reason he considered himself unworthy for Sara's affections; when there were so many more suitable alternatives out there for her.

"Where are you from, Mr. Grissom? Tonopah or Hawthorne, perhaps?"

He knew Tonopah was the closest city, and smiled, slowly shaking his head. "Las Vegas, actually".

"Ah", she looked vaguely disapproving.

He decided her cooperation depended largely on gleaning her approval, and quickly amended his response. "I'm from California, originally".

This seemed to satisfy her more, and she smiled pleasantly. "Oh, I see. What about your young lady? Is she from California as well?"

He swallowed, realising this woman assumed he and Sara were together. "Uh, yes, she is."

She nodded. "I think you make a very lovely pair. It's good to see a nice young couple these days."

He wasn't used to making idle conversation, particularly about his non-existent relationship with his pretty, young subordinate. He shifted awkwardly, knowing he wouldn't be able to distract the woman's attention for long. He hoped it would be enough time for Sara to find something interesting.

Sara strode down the narrow hall, frowning as she craned the nearest door open a fraction. The odour of many many cats was much more pungent when she realised it was the old woman's bedroom, and she closed the door again quickly.

The bathroom was on the right, and she bypassed this room, drawn to the lone door at the end of the hall. The faint murmur of voices drifted over her, and she knew she couldn't take much longer than few valuable minutes.

The room was plain, almost stripped of all colour. The floor creaked as she strode inside, and she paused, tensing fearfully. The murmur didn't stop, and she continued into the room cautiously.

Her maglite was in the folds of her jacket, and she drew it out, shining it around the four corners of the room.

A firm, steel bed stood in the centre of the room, and a low dresser table hugged one wall. A lone window occupied the wall opposite, and heavy drapes cordoned it off from any outside light.

If this was what was left of Hayley Barton's room, Sara felt incredibly uneasy. When people lost a member of their family tragically young, they were known to seal off any last reminders of their presence in the house, leaving their bedrooms as a sort of shrine. Sylvia Barton had stripped Hayley's room down to the bare essentials, and it had clearly not held much to begin with.

Striding across to the dresser, she tugged open several drawers, finding nothing inside. Sara pursed her lips, shining her torch around uncertainly. The light caught on the closet door in the corner, and she approached it, twisting the knob. The door was locked. She frowned, biting her lower lip hesitantly before crouching down and peering through the keyhole, shining the glow of the maglite through.

A few belongings were scattered on the shelves, and clothes were hanging on the racks. She saw nothing terribly interesting, and lowered her eyes to the floor in defeat.

A thin wisp of paper stuck partially out from the bottom of the door, and Sara frowned, sliding one of her gloves carefully onto her right hand, and lifting the paper to her face.

She rose to her feet to read it. MARCUS HENWAY. DELINDA'S LOUNGE.

She slid the note glibly into an evidence bag, hiding it securely in her pocket before returning to the hall, closing the door quietly behind her.

When she returned to the living room, Grissom was listening as the woman explained her past experiences in California. He was generally a very tolerant man, but there was no mistaking the relief in his eyes when he glanced up and saw her.

"Mrs. Barton, thank you for your time, but I'm afraid Sara and I should be leaving".

"Oh!" She blinked, surprised, as she glanced up to consult the old-fashioned clock on the mantel behind her. "Of course. Dear me, I didn't realise the time. It is getting late, isn't it?"

"Thank you for your help", Sara said politely, following behind Grissom as he started for the door.

Sylvia made her way with difficulty after them, smiling as they paused in front of the door.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."

They smiled in response, biding their goodbyes, feeling the woman's hawklike gaze on them all the way across the front yard.

"Is it me or is there something really weird about that house?" Sara asked through carefully clenched teeth, keeping her gaze ahead until she was certain the lady had closed the door and returned into the house.

Grissom slowly shook his head, reaching around to open the door for her. "It's not just you".

She couldn't help but glance at him, taking in the chivalry of the action, and the automatic nature in how he did it. Men her age rarely thought of exhibiting such courtesy. She shook off the thought with a sigh.

"What did you find?" he asked, pausing with his hand on the door. She resisted climbing in, turning back to regard him. His body heat warmed her in his proximity, and she cleared her throat.

"It might be nothing. A piece of paper with a name and a place. It looked like the victim's handwriting".

He frowned slightly, probably wondering how closely she would have analysed the victim's handwriting to recognise it. He didn't voice his thoughts, and she appreciated it. It would have been hypocritical for a start.

"Okay. We should probably find a motel".

"Or _the_ motel", she corrected, smiling vaguely, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach when she realised they would be spending the night in the same place.

She sighed; wondering if getting through the night was going to be as difficult for him as it was going to be for her.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Thanks for the feedback, guys. Keep it coming. And special thanks to Miss Cam for recommending this story at YTDAW.

**Chapter four**

The motel was small and cramped and not what she would call a noteworthy tourist attraction.

It obviously got little business, being where it was, and Grissom and Sara easily managed to book two adjoining rooms. The owner reacted as if they were doing him a great disservice when they did so, despite the fact that they were clearly his only patrons.

They had convened in Grissom's room with Hayley Barton's casefile-- Sara sitting cross-legged on his bed, he taking the soft armchair in the corner. Papers were strewn around Sara until she was in an island in the middle. The two of them poured over the small shards of information it contained, as if they hadn't already stored it in their memories.

It comforted her that they had a name to go with this young woman now, but other than that, they had made little progress. Their visit to Hayley's grandmother had only confused their investigation more, and without the lab's resources, they were only going to encounter further difficulties.

It occurred to her that with the two most notorious workaholics in the lab together on this trip, there was no one around to tell them to stop, and they might end up working well into the night.

She stretched and considered voicing this opinion to Grissom, when the loud ringing of a cell phone interrupted the silence.

Grissom's gaze lifted slowly to hers, and he sighed tiredly before pulling the offending phone from his pocket.

He continued skimming through the report in front of him, even as he answered briskly. "Grissom".

"Well, you sound oddly innocent for someone who skipped out of work with no explanation and mysteriously disappeared from town".

Grissom resisted another heavy sigh at the familiar, piercing voice. At least it wasn't Ecklie. "Hello to you too, Catherine".

"Don't pull that crap with me. Where the hell are you? Ecklie's been interrogating us all like he's the Spanish Inquisition. He's not buying Sofia's story. And I'm sorry, but I don't really blame him. You haven't had a family emergency in ten years".

Grissom gave up his pretence of reading, listening blankly to Catherine's ongoing diatribe. It wasn't unusual for her to lecture him, but it was unusual for _her_ to have to remind _him_ of his responsibilities. "Look, its nothing you need to worry about, okay? I'll be back in town in a few days…"

"Really? Tell me, Grissom, will Sara's unscheduled leave finish at the same time?"

He glanced up, meeting Sara's dark gaze across the room. Her expression was unreadable, but it was clear she could tell his conversation was going the same way hers had with Greg.

"If that's what you want to believe, then I won't stop you".

He heard Catherine scoff disbelievingly on the other end of the line. "Have you officially lost it, Gil?" she hissed. "You are not invincible. You make a fool out of him, and Ecklie will do just about anything to get you back. He might not fire you, but he can make your life a living hell".

"I'm well aware of that", he said curtly, closing the folder on his lap. "I appreciate the warning".

"Greg thinks you and Sara have gone on a vigilante ghost hunt in some backwater town. Please tell me he is joking".

Grissom didn't answer. He had already dragged Sara down with him, and he didn't want to get anyone else at the lab involved. Particularly Catherine, who already had far too many strikes against her name.

She sighed as his silence echoed down the line, sounding unmistakably defeated. "Look, just… Call me if you get into any trouble, okay?"

He nodded, then realised that she couldn't see him. He was more grateful than she would ever know that she didn't try to push him for more information. "Thanks, Cath".

He hung up, firmly turning off his phone before replacing it on the table.

Sara lifted an eyebrow coyly, stretching her limbs out over the side of the bed. "In hot water with the missus, Grissom?"

He shot her a withering look. Having Sara refer to Catherine in that particular capacity was vaguely disturbing to him, and he lowered his glasses over his nose. "Ecklie's not letting up. He knows something is going on".

She shrugged, strangely unperturbed despite the fact that her career was somewhat on the line. "What can he do about it, really? We're both on legitimate leave. Even if we are doing something a little unorthodox…"

"We're performing an unapproved investigation, Sara", he reminded her sternly.

Sara narrowed her eyes a little disbelievingly, and he could tell he had annoyed her. Considering what close quarters they were in, he thought that had probably not been wise. "Grissom, I…" She shook her head, lowering her voice considerably. "I don't know what is going on with you, but I really hope that you don't think you can blame this on me when you regain your sanity."

He frowned deeply, flattening his palms on the folder on his lap as he leant back to look at her unswervingly. "If you believe we're on a wild goose chase here, then why did you agree to come?"

She bit her lip, already regretting her small, unintentional outburst. "I… I never said that." She rose to her feet, knees brushing against the foot of the bed. "Forget it. I think I'm going to just… go to bed."

Her hand slid over the door separating the paper-thin walls of their two motel rooms, and she glanced back at him fleetingly. "Goodnight, Grissom".

"Goodnight", he echoed flatly, sighing when the door closed with a quiet thud behind her.

He stared distantly at the plain grey carpet, reminding himself how generous she had been in offering to come out here with him, abandoning her own life and job for an indefinite amount of time. She was right. They could be heading down a blind alley. And she was being awfully forgiving considering how much he had supported her own instincts in the past.

If he really had taken temporary leave of his senses, he was never going to blame her for this. He couldn't understand why she would believe that. He obviously hadn't done much to inspire her confidence in him.

If they were to rebuild their shaky friendship, that was definitely going to have to change.

00000000

Sara lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, unable to relax enough for the steady cocoon of sleep to overcome her.

The electric hum of the neon motel sign was also keeping her awake, and its light cast a red hue through the flimsy gauze curtains over the wall, lighting on the door separating her room from Grissom's.

She sighed, sitting up on the lumpy mattress, leaning back against the headboard and running her hands through her hair. She wasn't used to sleeping at night and her sleeping schedule was all out of wack. She considered mulling over the puzzling contents of Hayley Barton's casefile one more time, but she quickly dismissed that idea. Her current frustration would only intensify. Besides, it was in Grissom's room, and there was no way she was going in there in the middle of the night without his permission. He would definitely misinterpret _that_.

Maybe this really had been a bad idea. She had comforted herself with the reassurance that she was helping Grissom here, but was she really? He was more than capable of solving this mystery by himself, and she had only increased the lab's suspicion of their actions by coming along as well. Now she had had the stupidity to voice her inner doubts, and she knew exactly what kind of reaction that would spark from him in the morning. He would become distant and cold, and any emotional closeness they might have gained on this trip would be ruined entirely.

Sara frowned at herself, sliding from beneath the covers, tugging on her robe and running her hands through her disarrayed hair. She shouldn't even be thinking anything like that. Grissom had made his feelings for her abundantly clear, and yet she kept pushing. She knew she should have given up long ago, but there was something that kept her holding on. Something she didn't understand, but that kept her going when any self-respecting person would have cut their losses and moved on years ago.

The cold night air swept over her as she strode outside, and she wrapped her robe more tightly around herself, following the dim light towards the vending machine she had glimpsed a few doors down when they first arrived.

She slid a few quarters in the slot, realising she hadn't eaten anything substantial since they left Las Vegas that morning. With the hours she worked, she had adapted to eating lightly and chose a candy bar, waiting for it to slide out.

She stood still for a few minutes before realising it was stuck. Sara let out a frustrated curse, hitting the side of the machine with more force than necessary.

"I already tried that".

Sara jumped, hearing the low timbre voice over her shoulder, and spun around as Grissom stepped closer, emerging through the shadows from the path she had came from.

He shrugged apologetically, gesturing vaguely at the machine. "It ate my money too".

She couldn't help it. She laughed; a low, musical sound of mingled amusement and genuine hysteria. It was something that he rarely heard, and he couldn't help but give a boyish smile in return, shaking his head as he glanced at the ground.

She drew in a deep breath as her laughter subsided, leaning back against the vending machine and slumping tiredly. "I guess we should have stopped for dinner, huh?"

His eyes quirked with quiet amusement. "It might have been a good idea".

She smiled, this time a little forlornly, glancing down and taking in the surrealism of the moment. She in her flannel pyjamas and robe, hair tussled with sleep, standing outside a seedy, small town motel with her emotionally unavailable boss with hunger pains in her stomach, feeling surprisingly unexposed.

Grissom, too, looked momentarily contemplative, when she glanced up to look at him again.

She licked her dry lips, furrowing her brow slightly. "Grissom… I'm sorry if what I said before sounded like I…"

He held up a hand to stop her. "Please. You don't have to tell me how irrational this whole thing was, Sara".

"You can't always follow the evidence, Grissom", she said seriously, meeting his gaze in the warm crimson light.

He nodded, slowly, and the charged tension between them made her shift with discomfort, pulling her robe more tightly around herself.

"I guess we should probably… attempt to get some sleep for tomorrow."

"Yeah".

He surprised her, reaching out to touch her arm gently, and the night filled with his warm gratitude. "Sara… thank you".

She didn't have to ask him what he meant. He held her gaze for a long, intense moment, and she understood everything he couldn't say with words. He had never displayed such open emotion towards her, and she took a moment to slowly nod her head. He smiled wanly before moving away, and turned back to his motel room.

She closed her eyes at his retreat, and the sudden silence was almost deafening.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **See chapter one.  
**Author's Note:** Again, thanks to all for the feedback.

**Chapter five**

"Excuse me. Yeah, you two. Excuse me?"

Grissom slid his sunglasses over his eyes, turning casually in mid-step just as he and Sara were about to enter the general store.

The coarse male voice sounded vaguely disgruntled, and lacked any smidgen of courtesy, and Grissom blinked in the dazzling sunlight as hewas confronted head-on with the man in question. He wore a distinctive badge that read, 'Sheriff' like a personal insignia of honour, and he folded his hefty arms, exuding self-importance.

Grissom lifted an eyebrow mildly, keeping the irritation he felt from showing on his face. He moved out of the way as an elderly woman moved past them into the store, feeling Sara bump his side as they stepped onto the side of the wooden platform.

"Sheriff", he answered politely, voice light and infinitely pleasant. "What can we do for you?"

The stout man looked to be in his mid-to-late fifties, with thick, bushy eyebrows that furrowed over his eyes like straggly caterpillars. He came up to about Grissom's height, and puffed his chest out unpleasantly as Grissom addressed him. For some odd reason, Grissom found it more difficult to deal with small-time law enforcement officers than the supercilious big-city version. They made it seem like he was marring their own personal territory when he attempted to cross into their jurisdictions, and were intolerant towards any offers of help, as if it was an insult to their own good name if they accepted it.

"I hear you two have been asking some unwanted questions around town," the Sheriff said bluntly, utterly skipping any good-natured pleasantries. He scowled at them like they were juvenile delinquents caught disturbing the peace. "Is that about right, Mr….?"

"Grissom", the entomologist offered calmly. "And no, not exactly. We're conducting an official investigation".

"Really? Funny, I haven't been contacted by any outside department about an 'investigation'." He turned his eyes on Sara, with a lingering appreciation that made Grissom irritated. "And who's your lady partner here then?"

"Sara Sidle", she supplied curtly, demeanour icy enough to intimidate even the most overly eager male admirer.

The Sheriff lifted an eyebrow, returning his attention to Grissom quickly. "We don't appreciate people here nosing around where they don't belong, Mr. Grissom", he said pointedly.

"Well, as soon as we find what we're looking for, we should be out of your way", Grissom replied with a feigned smile.

The Sheriff looked irritated at being patronised, and folded his bulky arms. "Let me give you some advice. We don't welcome trouble. Folks around here like to keep to themselves. There ain't nothing interesting for you city folks to find out here. If I hear of you doing _anything_ to disturb anyone, I will have both of you arrested so fast, you won't even remember where it's coming from. You got that?"

"Loud and clear", Sara responded dryly.

He shot her a dirty look, unimpressed with her blasé reaction to his threat. "People don't like a smart mouth on a pretty girl, missy".

He gave them a parting glare, and stepped off the wooden porch leading into the store, stomping down the bitumen road towards his parked police cruiser like a man on a mission.

Grissom glanced at Sara, who gave him a careless shrug before turning back to their original destination.

The bell chimed merrily over the door as they entered, and the cool air from the derelict air conditioner in the corner hit them almost immediately.

They weren't in the habit of working without the cooperation of the local police. Grissom was very familiar with their derision, but they had always had the security of their support, something he attributed largely to Brass. They didn't have it now, and it was an unfamiliar position, one that filled him with a vague sense of unease.

Sara seemed unbothered by their prior encounter, swiftly retrieving a shopping basket from the stack by the door, and strutting confidently down the aisle in her tight-fitting jeans and burgundy blouse, piling items into her basket.

Grissom watched her sinuous, graceful movements for a moment, taking in the contrast between this everyday version he had of her, and the vision he had from last night. He understood for the first time that he had seen a rare, vulnerable side of her, and he was surprised that she even felt comfortable enough around him to do that.

He envied her ability to bare herself to him so easily, when he was so afraid of opening himself to her.

He followed slowly behind her as she threw a few bottles of mountain dew into the basket, aware of the inadvertent domesticity of the moment. So this was what it would be like to date Sara, to do something as mundane as grocery shopping together. He swallowed at the images his mind concocted, unwilling to allow himself such an unattainable daydream. There had to be a line, and the last two days had blurred it considerably. He couldn't allow himself to take the fantasy any further. That was dangerous territory.

Sara appeared completely oblivious to his thoughts, and turned to glance at him vaguely as she paused at the end of the aisle.

"So, what's our next move going to be today?"

He realised that she was automatically submitting to his leadership, and that he enjoyed the control he had over her perhaps more than he should. They were in the real world, and he wasn't technically her boss, and yet she was still expecting him to make the next decision.

He knew, if they were to ever enter into a personal relationship, that dynamic would shift dramatically. And he had no doubt who would have the power then.

He cleared his throat, scanning her as she surveyed the shelves in front of her, unaware of his inner dilemma. She usually was.

"I don't know", he admitted, promoting her opinion.

She glanced at him, and he thought he saw a glimmer of knowing in her sharp brown gaze. A small smile quirked at her lips, but it was gone just as quickly, and she returned her attention to the selection of food in front of them.

"All we have to go on is a name, and what I'm guessing is an address, right? And then we have a dead girl where there shouldn't be one. There are so many things about this that don't make sense. How can Hayley's body have been found here if she was found in Vegas two months ago? How could they bury her? Unless she had an identical twin out there, she can't exactly die twice."

Grissom glanced at her sharply, and she frowned self-consciously. "What?"

"We have to exhume the body."

She blinked stupidly. "_What_? Uh, Grissom, you are remembering our meeting with the friendly Sheriff just now, right? How are we going to get permission for that? The local authorities don't like us poking around up here already. I don't think they're going to give us free access to their cemetery, especially without a court order…"

He sighed, deflating slightly at her reasoning. "We need more evidence."

"We need more help", she corrected sharply. She rounded the corner to the line of fridges, wrinkling her nose as she examined the contents.

"What are you suggesting?" he asked quietly, trailing behind her.

Sara shrugged. "Maybe we should call someone from the lab".

Grissom gave her a long look, wasted when he realised she had failed to turn around. "Sara, we've already seriously put our own jobs in jeopardy. I don't want to risk involving anyone else—"

"And maybe that's your problem", she retorted unexpectedly, turning to glance at him as she pulled open the fridge and retrieved a small tub of yoghurt. "You have to realise that you can't decide other people's risks."

He stared at her, unable to miss the unmistakable subtext lurking beneath her words. He also couldn't help but realise that she would never have allowed herself to say that to him under normal circumstances.

"Who do you suggest I call?" he asked, after a long, interminable pause.

Sara closed the fridge, looking away. "Well, I don't know if you're going to agree with it, but I know who I would call".

He did know, and the ease with which she put her trust in the person in question made him irrationally annoyed. He wondered, not for the first time, what exactly her relationship was with him.

"I'll make the call", he said, tiredly.

He left her to pay for the groceries, knowing that she wouldn't accept his money if he offered it to her, and strode out into the staggering sunlight, leaning against his parked SUV as he punched in the familiar numbers.

"Yello?"

He rolled his eyes at the typical unprofessional greeting. "Is that always how you answer your phone, Greg?"

Greg was unfazed by his blatant disapproval, continuing in his light-hearted tone. "Well. Long time, no speak, boss. What can I do for you?"

Grissom sighed deeply, running a hand over his eyes and warding away the intensity of the morning sun. "I need you to do a background search on someone called Marcus Henway. I also need to locate a place called Delinda's Lounge."

"You do know that my shift is just about over, don't you?" Greg said pointedly. "Sofia's had me working non-stop all night trying to keep up on the cases _you_ abandoned."

Grissom felt a brief surge of guilt, sighing deeply. "I'll pay you for the overtime, Greg."

"This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the Jane Doe case Ecklie pulled the plug on the other day, would it?"

"Greg, just do it, please".

"All right, all right. I'll call you with any results." He paused, and Grissom heard a mischievous lilt in his voice when he spoke again. "Say hi to Sara for me".

He hung up before Grissom could respond, and he thought that that was probably Greg's smartest move yet.

Sara moved down the stairs with a paper grocery bag in her hands, glancing at him expectantly.

"He's on it", he answered swiftly.

"Good". She allowed him to take the bag from her and put it in the trunk. She climbed in the driver's seat, and he sighed tiredly before moving around to the passenger's side. She held her hand out for the keys, wiggling her slender fingers slightly. He stared at her for a moment, and then he handed them over.

"Where to?" she asked monotonously, calmly backing out of the space.

"The cemetery", he answered, somewhat wearily. "Call me insane, but I'd like to verify Mrs. Barton's claim".

00000000


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter one.

**Chapter six**

Sara came to a leisurely halt as she crunched over scattered dead leaves, slanting an eyebrow impassively as she reached the grey headstone obscured slightly by foliage that Grissom hovered intently over.

She studied it a moment, unwillingly reminded of her own father's gravestone, a place that represented mourning of a different kind for her; mourning for her innocence, and her lost, forgotten childhood. She shook her head, briefly taking in Grissom's stocky frame as he contemplated their latest puzzle.

The cemetery wasn't large, and after splitting up it hadn't taken them long to locate the grave they sought.

She stepped up to his side, reading the engraved inscription out loud after the pause of discovery set in. "Hayley Maree Barton. 17/10/1988 to 14/12/04. Beloved daughter and granddaughter. Rest in Peace. Well. Nothing more final than that".

He ignored her attempts at light banter, and she had to remind herself she was with Grissom, king of the unforeseen mood changes.

"This doesn't make sense".

_Yeah, no kidding_, she thought to herself. The lines of his face were hard and unreadable, even more so than usual. Though he had been more open and outgoing with her over the last two days than he had probably ever been, she felt like she was getting no closer to knowing him at all.

"So, as far as her grandmother knows, Hayley Barton has been dead for over six months", she said, wondering how on earth such a simple case had managed to grow so complicated.

"When we found her there was no decomposition", he noted, almost absently. She wondered if he had acquired Sofia's method of talking to herself. "She had clearly only been dead for a few hours. It's not as if her body was stolen and placed in Vegas four months after her death here".

"The ground doesn't look like it's been disturbed in the last few months, either", Sara observed, scuffing at the earth with her toe.

The cemetery was a remote area shrouded by surrounding forest, neatly concealed from the road above. The scenery might once have been soothing to her, but it now only held an ominous quality. The graves dated back no further than the early twenties from what she could see, and it was obvious Eildenbrook's population had not boomed much since that time.

Grissom drew in a deep breath, gazing around at the thick forest surrounding the clearing as if it yielded the hidden answers he sought. The pine smell was even more overpowering, and the blur of rich green closed in around them. "There has to be a rational explanation for this".

"I'm sure there is", she agreed. There had to be. Science was what they knew. Science and logic. There was no room for anything else.

"Okay", he said, drawing his words out slowly. "Maybe we should just go through what we know".

Sara nodded, brushing a strand of hair absently behind her ear. "Okay", she murmured. "Two months ago we found a homeless Jane Doe in a park. She had Eildenbrook written on the cover of a few novels in her backpack."

"Her description is identical to Hayley Barton, whom her grandmother claimed was murdered six months ago."

"She was found several weeks after her disappearance," Sara added. "The Sheriff assumed she was murdered by an anonymous traveller and she was buried right here". She frowned thoughtfully. "The murder would have to be investigated by outside authorities, though, right? Eildenbrook isn't big enough to have a homicide unit".

"Tonopah is the nearest city", Grissom observed. "It was probably in Nye County's jurisdiction".

Sara pursed her lips, looking down grimly. "I, um, hate to say this, but I think we need to talk to the Sheriff again".

He sighed tiredly, and she could sense the exasperation rolling from him in waves. "Yeah", he muttered dismally. "We really do."

0000000000

Sheriff Waters' office was a pathetic attachment on the back of the modest Eildenbrook Police Department building.

His secretary was a woman who could have been anywhere from Sara's age to her mid-forties, with deep lines pinching the corners of her green eyes, and limp crimson hair curled loosely over her shoulders.

They explained their business, and she instantly buzzed Waters over the office intercom, waving them in at his indiscernible, crackling response. They clearly didn't get visitors often.

He sat behind his towering desk in a faded easychair; managing to convey the same infinitely annoying superiority Ecklie was so talented at. Sara concluded that it was an art form that simply could not be taught.

He nodded to them briskly, clasping his palms together to form an apex on his stomach. "Mr. Grissom", he said calmly. "Miss. Sidle. I had a feeling I'd be seeing you again today".

He gestured over two seats in front of him, which they took reluctantly, a sure sign that they would be prolonging their visit.

"We need some information on Hayley Barton's murder", Grissom said frankly.

Waters lifted a bushy eyebrow, pressing his lips tightly together. "How do you know about that?" he asked abruptly.

"She's involved in an ongoing case. That's all we can discuss."

"And what kind of case would the Las Vegas Police Department have an interest in here in Eldenbrook?"

He nodded at their mirrored expressions of momentary surprise. "You have Las Vegas plates on your vehicle", he offered smugly. "Don't get many of those around here."

"Sheriff, I realise that you don't want to rehash an old, sensitive case", Grissom said tensely. "But this is important".

"And anything you hold back will simply impede our investigation", Sara added. "Which will only guarantee our stay for much longer."

The Sheriff looked apprehensive at this particular prospect, and cleared his throat gruffly. "All right", he said, somewhat curtly. "I'll tell you what I know".

"The LVPD appreciates your assistance", Sara said sweetly.

He shot her a deathly glare, muttering something no doubt offensive under his breath. "Yeah, I'll bet".

He motioned vaguely into the distance as he started his account. "Tonopah sent out a few of their guys to look into the murder, but it was fairly open and shut", he began grouchily. "Barton was stabbed in the chest, and her money was taken, and she was dumped on the side of the road. She obviously tried to hitch a ride out of town, and picked the wrong car for a lift. We get a lot of travellers passing through to Tonopah this way. This culprit was never found, and we had to close the case."

"How can you be so sure it was just a passing stranger?" Grissom asked seriously.

Waters frowned. "I don't know what folks are like in the big city, but we aren't like that around here. If anyone saw her trying to make her way out of Eildenbrook, they would have picked her up and taken her right on back to her grandmother."

Sara got the feeling their investigation had been anything but thorough, and Tonopah had obviously not felt the need to spare many of their own resources.

"Who found the body?" she asked, leaning forward slightly.

He sighed. "Local boy. Uh, Bobby, Bobby Harley. He moved on to college in Arizona a few months back now".

Sara lifted an eyebrow at that particular convenience, remaining silent.

"Where was she found?" Grissom spoke up.

The Sheriff leant back in his chair, considering the map over his shoulder broodingly. "About two miles north of the middle of town", he answered at last, nodding perfunctorily. "On the boundary of the Harley's property."

"Do you think the owner would mind if we went up there and had a look?" Grissom asked thoughtfully.

Waters shrugged carelessly, thoughts clearly drifting elsewhere. "Knock yourselves out. There ain't nothing you're gonna find up there that hasn't been found already."

"Well, thank you for your help", Grissom said politely.

He barely offered a wave in response as they departed his office.

They strode back out into the waning day, and Grissom glanced at her as they neared his car. "What do you think?"

"I think he's hiding something", she confessed, eyes fixed impassively on his stationary Tahoe.

He opened his mouth to say something in reply, and his cell phone interrupted him.

He sighed, answering briskly. "Grissom".

"This Marcus Henway guy is messed up, I gotta tell you".

Grissom furrowed his brow, taking in Greg's cryptic comment irritably. He clearly hadn't lost his penchant for drawing out information. "What did you find, Greg?"

Sara looked mildly amused by his unending frustration, leaning against the car beside him as she listened to his end of the conversation.

"Okay", Greg began. "I looked him up on the LVPD database. Henway has been arrested twice, once for public drunkenness, and once for assault".

Grissom waited, unimpressed so far. "And?"

"And he also happens to be the leader of a small and unpublicised religious sect in Las Vegas called 'LaVey's order'. Which, if you know anything about Satanism, you'll know is just a knock-off branch of—"

"—The Church of Satan. Based on the writings of Anton LaVey from the late 1960s", Grissom cut in.

He could hear Greg's muffled sounds of disgruntlement. "Man, is there anything you _don't_ know? You're ruining my whole presentation here".

"Well if there was, I couldn't tell you, could I, Greg?"

The ex-lab tech sighed impatiently. "Yeah, well, anyway, they're a little kooky, even for Las Vegas. They live in a commune in a trailer park out somewhere near Lake Mead, and they're rumoured to get up to some pretty hinky stuff-- sacrificing live animals, drinking their blood, you know, your typical Satanic, Charles Mason loving stuff. They recruit young, naïve kids into thinking they're touching God, and by the time they realise any different, they're already in a little too deep, if you know what I mean".

Grissom frowned. This was a development he had not been expecting. "What about Delinda's Lounge?"

"No luck on that, so far. I'm still looking into it. I'm not sure if it's in Vegas, but it seems pretty likely."

"Okay. Thanks, Greg."

He replaced his phone, glancing at Sara a little dubiously. "It's possible Hayley Barton was seduced into joining a satanic cult somewhere in Vegas."

"You think that's why she was leaving town?"

"Maybe. It still doesn't explain the appearance of another body."

Sara chewed her lip. "This just gets weirder and weirder."

00000000

**Author's Note:** I'm unsure exactly how accurate my information on Satanism is, so I hope this is believeable. Anyway, good stuff next chapter, I promise ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter seven**

Sara wasn't afraid to admit when she was wrong. She was well known as a stubborn opponent among her colleagues, occasionally annoyingly so, but she could acknowledge her own mistakes. And it was becoming increasingly clear to her that this was one of those times.

Grissom's instincts appeared to have some level of reality to them— leading them into an even deeper mystery than either of them could have anticipated.

The Sheriff's directions were beyond vague, and she eventually lost track of the winding lefts and rights Grissom took as they were led deeper and deeper into unknown territory. Eventually, they pinpointed the location of the original crime scene, a low incline leading down into dark forest from the side of the road. A barbwire fence cut off from the side, stretching off endlessly into the distance and visibly indicating the boundary of the Harley's property.

Sara swept a stray branch out of her face as she slowly made her way down the slope, stumbling slightly on the uneven ground. Grissom had already made it safely to the bottom, and reached out his arms to steady her. She staggered over a protruding root as she reached the foot of the incline, and slammed into Grissom more roughly than she had intended.

His strong hands had grasped onto her upper arms to steady her, and she came to an unsteady halt mere millimetres from his face. She swallowed hoarsely, started as she was confronted with his effervescent blue gaze head-on, and his hot breath tickled her cheek as she lifted her eyes to stare into his uncertainly.

Her erratic breathing was the only sound in the eerie stillness of their surroundings, and she became aware that their lips were inches apart. She licked her lips unconsciously, unprepared for the unexpected moment of closeness.

The familiar charge of electricity between them returned with a new, strangely thrilling feeling of intensity, and Sara stared back at him, tilting her chin slightly. "Grissom…"

The simple, gentle whisper of his name from her lips broke the spell of the moment, and he gently pulled away from her, lowering his arms firmly to his sides as if the moment had never happened.

"We should see if we can find anything before it gets dark".

She stood still, struck dumb by the ease with which he walked away, watching him silently as he turned away from her to shine his mini-flashlight into the hidden shadows of the trees.

Sara felt her mouth work open disbelievingly, shaking her head as she glanced down to examine something at her feet, a distraction for her pounding heart if nothing else. "We're going to have to talk about this one day, Grissom", she said unexpectedly, straightening when it turned out to be a faded candy wrapper buried under mounds of leaves, brushing the flecks of dirt from her jeans.

Grissom didn't turn around, keeping his attention riveted firmly on something beside a fallen log.

"I don't want to talk about it", he said, in a quiet, brusque voice.

She was surprised he had even acknowledged her statement at all. The air was thick with their unspoken tension, and she studied the broad, tense lines of his back, dropping all attempts at searching for what she knew would be non-existent evidence, after being exposed to the elements for so long.

"Are you going to pretend this doesn't exist forever?" she asked seriously, mentally berating herself for bringing up this conversation. It was long overdue, but this was not the place. Hadn't she promised herself, not a day earlier, that she would not make this trip personal?

At last, Grissom turned to face her, features void of any telling emotion. He had obviously been prepared for this as much as she had avoided it. They were often in close proximity for days on end, but this time they didn't have an imminent deadline, or their ever-present colleagues to distract them. A confrontation about their unspoken relationship, or lack of the same, was only inevitable.

After all, how could she have believed that she would really be able to contain herself?

"Sara, you know this can't ever…" His face crinkled as he struggled to summon the right words, and she could see behind the careful mask, his blue eyes glimmered with conflict. "This can't be anything."

She pursed her lips, gaze fluttering away. "Why?" she asked flatly. She knew she was setting herself up for another rejection, and the later awkwardness this would cause was probably not worth the answer. But she needed to know why he insisted on dampening both of their happiness. Her piece of mind depended on the truth.

He opened his mouth, closed it, gaze sliding over her slowly. "There are a lot of reasons", he said tiredly.

She scoffed humourlessly. "You can't even give me _one_. Grissom… if you… don't _want_ this, then why does it feel like you have to convince yourself as much as you have to convince me?"

He stared at her, but he couldn't say anything, and she knew it. She shook her head, letting her short brown hair fall over her face, and switched her own mag lite on, shining it over the nearby bushes and hiding the sudden pain she felt colouring her face.

She strode off into the surrounding brush, increasing the distance between them as she regained the last bitter shards of her composure.

The sky had already darkened considerably, and as she stepped under their shade she found the trees were so thick it was difficult to see without the flashlight.

She pursed her lips, folding one arm over her midsection to starve away the biting cold. A twig snapped behind her, and she shone the flashlight out, eyes narrowing warily.

"Grissom?"

She found it highly unlikely that he would follow her so soon after any kind of awkward encounter, and her suspicions were confirmed when she heard no immediate reply. The dense foliage made it difficult to determine where he was, but she assumed he was out of earshot, and frowned slightly before returning her attention to the ground.

She shone the light over the adjoining fence line, feeling the burn of mortification on her features. Grissom's reluctance to pursue any romantic relationship was starting to take its toll. The fact that he could flirt with her for the past few days and then pretend it had meant nothing only added to her heartache.

Sara sighed, attempting to focus on her surroundings. She knew putting the scene into context might help their case slightly, but six months was a long time to sustain any evidence. Too long. If they found anything, they would be extremely lucky.

A low crunch sounded again, and she frowned at the unmistakable sound of slow, cautious footsteps.

She whirled, shining her flashlight around again, wishing she had her firearm handy for an added sense of security. Nothing.

She decided that her heightened emotions were making her unnecessarily on edge, and turned back to her investigation.

And let out a surprised yelp when she came face to face with the hulking figure of a middle-aged man, holding a shotgun between his meaty fingers like a vision from a nightmare.

She tensed, staring at the man, who glared back at her with murderous intent.

She yelled before she had time to think about it. "Grissom!"

Grissom's loud footfalls crushed over the dense brush as they drew closer, and his strident, defensive voice sounded angrily over her shoulder. "Hey!"

He came to a halt at her side, expression twisted and stance oddly protective, and her eyes darted back at him briefly. She hated that she had instinctively called for him, when she was so accustomed to taking care of herself. She hated even more that she felt immediately reassured by his presence.

"You're on private property", the man growled fiercely.

"We're conducting a murder investigation", Grissom snapped back curtly, looking decidedly on edge. "Would you mind pointing down the weapon?"

The man clenched his jaw, lowering his shotgun only slightly. "Yeah? I don't remember giving any permission for you people to start sniffing around my property".

Sara narrowed her eyes; defiance returning now the situation was secure. "The Sheriff failed to mention that we needed it".

He scowled. "And why don't that surprise me?"

"And you are?" Grissom prompted impatiently.

The man lowered his shotgun to his thigh now that he knew they were not a threat, eyes glistening almost black in the darkness. "Robert Shelton. I bought this here property six months back now".

"You don't know anything about a murder that was committed here?"

He stared at them like they were crazy. "I haven't heard nothing about no murder, missy. The property was dirt cheap, which was why I bought it."

"From the Harleys?" Sara guessed, frowning intently.

Robert frowned. "Yeah, from the Harleys, who else would I have bought it from? They own half the real estate around here".

Sara glanced back at Grissom, not quite catching his eyes, but long enough to convey her confusion. "And you don't get along with the Sheriff?"

He snorted. "Are ya kidding? The man don't like anyone from out of town coming in and sniffing around. I figure the only reason I got the place was because he was real eager for the land to go. Never had a quicker deal in all my life."

"Well, we're sorry for disturbing you", Grissom said carefully.

Robert scoffed humourlessly. "Yeah, sure you are. Just don't let me see you on my land again, ya hear?"

"I don't think you have to worry about that", Sara said dourly.

He shot them a parting glower, turning to start back along the boundary fence, presumedly towards his main property.

Grissom frowned deeply, gaze sliding over hers as the man disappeared, brow crinkled vaguely as he scanned her with something resembling concern. She realised that he had believed her to be in serious peril, at least for a moment, and for a split second, the turbulent emotions hidden under his gaze were there for her to see.

He swallowed, sounding dimly uncertain. "Sara—"

"We should get back", she said curtly, firmly looking away. "Wouldn't want the angry giant to come back with his shotgun loaded up, now would we?"

She turned abruptly, without waiting to see if he was going to follow her. Good. Maybe he could suffer for once. After a long beat, she heard his shoes crunch on the undergrowth as he began to follow her through the trees.

If he wanted to pretend this had never happened, then that was just fine. She could play that game. She'd been doing it for the last five years; she could do it a little longer.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Disclamer:** See chapter one.  
**Author's Note:** Thank you _very_ much for the feedback, particularly for the last chapter. I felt like I was loosing you for a bit there. I'm glad to see that you are still along for the ride. I think you'll be quite happy with this chapter. :)

**Chapter eight**

Grissom was tired. Physically and emotionally. He leant back on his motel bed, hand hovering wearily over his face as he recalled the events of the last few hours.

Their case was seemingly never ending with its complications, and it was becoming clear their presence was not going to go tolerated in town much longer. Exhumation of the body was the only logical step he could come up with to prove that they were dealing with two bodies instead of one—or one body instead of two – and they needed a court order to do that. He didn't have the permission of Ecklie, or the department, to attempt to get that kind of authorization.

He wondered if he was at the breaking point of his career, and why that didn't worry him as much as it once might have.

He lowered his hand, glancing listlessly at the door separating his room from Sara's. The answer, of course, lay just out of his reach, behind that door. The answers had always been there, with her; his beautiful, vibrant, _living_ Sara. She had told him once she knew what to do about this, and he had no doubt she still did. It didn't change any of his doubts or insecurities; it didn't mean he could just give in.

He knew he had hurt her earlier, and had only deserved her later rebuff, though it had hurt, when he realised she was just as capable of burning him so deeply. He knew he was being selfish. He couldn't win. He couldn't let himself have her, but he couldn't let anyone else, either. He was limiting her to a life in constant limbo, and he hated himself for doing it.

Grissom slid off the side of the bed, staring at the door hesitantly as he slowly padded across the carpet. His closed his eyes, leaning his head against its smooth surface, as if by touching something tangible he could somehow connect himself to her.

He straightened, slowly lowering his fist, knocking gently. "Sara?"

She took a moment to respond, and when she did, her voice was cold and emotionless. "What?"

"Can I…?" He lowered his head, exhaling deeply. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

He heard no movement, and wondered if she was just going to ignore him, leave him hanging forever. It would be fitting payback.

Slowly, the door opened inward, and she stood on the other side, staring at him mutely.

Her beautiful, porcelain features reflected none of her inner misery, and he marvelled at the strength of this woman, and everything she had been forced to harden herself to. Her childhood, her job. Him.

She remained fixed in the doorway, barring his entry, and he braced his arm against the frame tiredly. "Do you want to get something to eat for dinner?"

She blinked back at him stoically, unimpressed with his poor attempts to broach their situation. "I'm not very hungry".

"Me either", he admitted, lowering his eyes. He frowned, fixing on a stain somewhere on the carpet, feeling the intensity of her deep brown gaze penetrating his detached veneer. "Sara… I want to… be able to tell you why this can never work…" he started haltingly. She was wrong. It wasn't any easier to wear your heart on your sleeve when you weren't looking in their eyes. But she had been right about one thing she said before. They couldn't pretend this didn't exist forever. And their current close quarters made it almost impossible.

He sighed. "But every time I'm around you all of those reasons just disappear… and I can't remember them."

Her lips parted; surprised by his unexpected confession, and the low, husky, seductive pull of his voice made her swallow.

"Why do you have to remember them?" she asked softly.

He closed his eyes. "Because eventually, I always do. I know… that I always hurt you, and I wish that I didn't. But it's for the best, Sara."

She shook her head, clenching her jaw disbelievingly. "According to you".

He finally lifted his eyes, and when he did, he saw the familiar spark of anger in hers.

"Is it really what's best, Grissom?" she hissed, with surprising ferocity, leading him to believe she'd been thinking about this for a long time, and not just today. "Is it for the best that I go home, everyday, after shift, and feel like I might die if I have to be around you any longer?" She flicked her head back, angrily, meeting his gaze head-on. "Is it for the best that I have _nobody_, because everytime I try to move on, you become so jealous I ruin my friendship with you, and just getting through every day is _so_ _unbelievably_ painful?" She stepped away from the doorway, leaving it ajar, stalking angrily back into her room.

"Is it for the best that… this _thing_ between us had gotten _so_ noticeable that our colleagues are afraid to _work_ with us sometimes? Tell me what you're doing that is helping us, Grissom, because I think you're doing what is best for _you_. Not us, and certainly not me".

Grissom stood in the open door for a moment, struggling to find his voice, striding into the room after her. "That's not true".

"Yes it is", she snapped impatiently, running a hand through her hair as she turned back to face him.

The frustration in his voice was plain, and he sighed deeply, overcome with the honesty of this conversation. "Do you think I enjoy doing this to myself, Sara?"

She lifted an eyebrow at him, and her expression held no hint of malice when she spoke. "Yes. I do".

He frowned, and a pang of hurt erupted in his stomach at her words. "Well, I hope it comforts you to believe that", he managed at last.

Sara shook her head, slumping on the edge of her bed with a sudden show of dejection. He could see the fight had drained from her, and she linked her hands on her knee as she lifted it on the mattress. "Of course it doesn't comfort me. Do you think I _want_ to believe that? You said so yourself, we need rationalisations more than anything. Well, that's the only way I can understand you".

Grissom remained silent, glancing down at her as she stared at the floor, regretting his role in this even as he wondered how she could possibly look at him that way.

"Let me ask you something", she said seriously, not looking up. "Why did you come here, really?"

Grissom frowned uncomprehendingly. The soft amber lamplight made her dark eyes glint and cast a glow over her silky hair. She looked up at him, studying him like she examined an unknown piece of evidence; interminably struggling to put the final pieces in place.

The previous passion had left her voice, and left in its wake an increased tension between them, electrifying the room with its intensity.

"You know why I came here", he said hoarsely.

She lifted her other knee, resting it under her chin. She stared up at him with her wide brown irises, almost childlike in her desire to know him. "No", she corrected slowly. "I know the reason you _gave_ me. You knew there was a huge possibility we weren't going to find anything up here; that this would all be a waste. You risked your job for some nameless victim, and I want to know why."

He didn't answer, and she rose to her feet again, stepping up in front of him. "Something's bothering you. We all know it, even if we don't say anything. Something hasn't been right with you for a long time."

"There are a lot of things bothering me", he admitted, disliking the way she was suddenly analysing him.

Sara appeared unfazed by his discomfort, tilting her head patiently. "Like what?"

Grissom sighed, looking at something over her shoulder. He rarely confided in others, and though it was normally against his will when he did, he knew the knowledge held no real risk with Catherine. Sara was another story. Sara _knew_ him. She had the ability to look into his soul. He resisted giving her that. Sara already had far too much power over him, more than he had ever wanted to give to another person. People who had power could hurt him, and he didn't want her to be able to do that.

"The lab", he answered, unwillingly, after a pause. "Loosing my team because Ecklie thinks it's time for payback. The bureaucracies… the games."

_Like the ones we play_.

Sara remained fixed on him intently. "Sounds like you don't enjoy your job anymore".

He laughed humourlessly, a low, rich sound that sent a faint shiver through her spine. "I haven't enjoyed my job for a long time, Sara. Sometimes, I…" He sighed, lowering his head. "Sometimes I don't know what I'm even doing there anymore".

She stared at him, eyes soft and open, remaining judgement-free despite her obvious personal investment. "You want to leave", she stated quietly.

He shrugged. "It feels like there isn't anything keeping me in Vegas".

She nodded, a small perfunctory gesture as if he had just made her point. He realised she had guided him into this statement, and he knew with just as much clarity what her next words would be.

"What is?"

Grissom met her gaze, growing weary beyond his years and resenting her for such a manipulation. How could he explain to her how much she tempted him, how she was the one, sole constant thing in his life he knew he wanted and would always hold him at an immovable standstill?

"You know what is", he answered quietly.

She smiled, a sad quirk of her lips that disarmed him with its beauty. She took a step closer; invading his personal space so suddenly he drew in a sharp breath. "Then why do you keep refusing it?"

At that moment, Grissom honestly couldn't remember why he did. He ran his hand over his bristled jaw, an agitated motion that conveyed his inner conflict, and Sara inched closer, lifting her eyes to his.

He had admitted more about his feelings for her tonight than he ever had, even to himself, and she knew, if he turned around and walked away right now, she would be content with that. But contentment was never enough. She wanted to know just what he would do if he could have her. She wanted to know if this was just some fleeting physical attraction for him, or if his feelings ran as deeply and intensely as hers did.

The air was static between them, pulsing with heightened emotions. Grissom startled her with his movement, slowly touching her waist-- a small gesture that was the height of intimacy between the two of them-- pulling her to stand directly in front of him.

His fingers slid around the hem of her blouse, and Sara drew in a sharp breath, allowing herself to move into him, surprised by the utter softness in his touch, and realising just how much he really needed her, and how much he really kept at bay.

She clutched the front of his shirt, savouring the soft, warm cotton under her fingers, and the firm strength of his body. His mouth lingered over hers; holding them forever on the chasm of pleasure, hot breath fanning her features. He slid his calloused hand behind the slope of her neck, dipping her lips to meet his.

Her breath hitched in her throat at the sudden, raw hunger that met her lips, grazing her cheeks against his rough stubble. She enjoyed the texture as his mouth moved over hers, with a sensuous tenderness he had never been able to express with words, and doubted he ever would.

She felt like she was falling in mid-air, and it took a moment for her to realise that Grissom had backed onto the bed, falling onto his back and taking her with him, increasing the passion of their kiss as his tongue began an earnest exploration of her mouth. His hand tangled in her hair as his other hand slid over her waist, splaying over the small of her back, pulling her into him with no small ounce of possession. She knew in that moment she was as lost to him as he was to her, and she would never be able to go on without the gentle caress of his mouth and the warm taste of him.

She pressed the length of her body over his, and he groaned against her mouth, rolled them so he was over her. He broke the kiss, staring down at her, the single object of his most unfulfilled desires, lying beneath him with her hair deliciously tussled and her eyes darkened with longing, features flushed with passion.

He buried his face into her neck, inhaling the sweet, feminine fragrance of her, breathing haggard and raw with unexpressed emotions. "God", he whispered, voice wracked with lament and yearning. "You are so beautiful".

Their lips met again, and the burden of tomorrow became forgotten in the unity of soft, warm flesh. Sara allowed herself to escape in his warmth and his taste; feeling like the love she had always craved was just a little more within her reach.

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	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** I really appreciated all of your reviews for the last chapter. They put all of my reservations about this story completely to rest. Thanks guys.

**Chapter nine**

When Sara woke, it was to the soft, ridiculously musical sound of birds chirping sweetly outside her window— echoing a mood she couldn't quite understand why she felt—and the gentle caress of the morning sun fanning her features.

She blinked, running a hand slowly over her eyes, taking a moment to remember where she was and why she felt like an endless, heavy burden had been lifted permanently from her shoulders.

Grissom. _Grissom_.

She shifted her cheek abruptly against the starched motel sheets, stretching her slender frame, frowning when she realised the space beside her was cold and empty.

A low, male voice murmured inaudible words in the next room, and Sara slowly swivelled upright, wrapping the sheet firmly around her torso as she padded cautiously across the room.

The door separating their adjoining rooms was slightly ajar, and she pushed it soundlessly open as Grissom lowered his cell phone, sagging slightly from his unknown conversation.

He was fully dressed, though his hair was still mussed from sleep; a foreign sight that briefly sent her heart racing. He heard her shuffle in the doorway, and turned to glance at her sharply. His blue eyes softened at the sight of her, before he cleared his throat, and the open look of affection was gone just as quickly.

"Who was that?" she asked cautiously, feeling the familiar ache of disappointment well in her stomach. She encountered the blankness in his eyes and felt its impact like a physical blow. He was pulling away. God, why was she so surprised? Why did she have to feel so vulnerable at this moment; covered in nothing but a sheet, and a paper-thin doorway to separate them?

"Greg", he answered after a pause, gaze dropping from her white swathed form, as if he had difficulty uttering the words. "He found the location of Delinda's Lounge. It's a small-unlicensed strip club just off the Strip. LaVey's Order often uses it for meetings."

He hesitated. "Ecklie left a message. He wants me to call him".

She nodded. He crinkled his brow, uncertainly measuring his words before he spoke aloud. She felt like her insides were dead. And this time it was far, far worse, because she had been that little bit closer to heaven. "Sara…"

"You know what?" she said softly, forcing a wan smile, unable to listen to his coming rejection. "I think I'm just going to get dressed, and let you make that phone call".

She turned back into her own room, rapidly scanning the floor for her discarded clothing. Her shirt was strewn on the floor at the foot of the bed, and she bent to retrieve it, numbness slowly making its way through her body.

She wouldn't let him see how much he hurt her. If he could move on after this… if he could pretend he felt nothing when they had shared the most intimate of acts… maybe it really was time for her to move on.

A warm hand on her elbow stopped her inner machinations, and she was forced to straighten, using one hand to hold the sheet in front of her as Grissom drew her around to face him.

"Sara", he repeated softly, voice hoarse and almost like a reprimand. He surprised her, sliding out his warm, calloused hand, and gently caressed the exposed skin of her neck and cheek. He frowned, staring at her with his expressive blue eyes, forcing himself to lift their permanent shutters. He was so unpractised at it, and yet he knew, for her, he had to make that effort. He couldn't let her think what he knew she was thinking.

"You have no idea what you do to me…" he said, in a defeated whisper, like she was the one to blame for his perpetual weakness.

She tried to move away but he stopped her, stroking the side of her cheek and sliding his thumb under her chin, forcing her to lift her head to his gaze. "I want to be able to resist you…"

She swallowed hoarsely, looking down again. She didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but it made her feel nothing but hurt inside. "You're not the only one".

He ignored the bitterness in her tone, and his lips brushed hers. This time there was much more lingering emotion in his kiss. Sara hesitated to name it. Despite her attempts to resist, she found herself opening her mouth to his softly, leaning into him as he deepened the kiss and feeling a warm, womanly desire flare in her lower stomach and spread through her heart. God, he had no idea how close he was to her heart.

He broke away, leaning his forehead against hers as his breath rasped over her features. "Look, let's… talk about this when we get back to Vegas. Okay?"

It was the closest thing to a promise he had ever given her when they were concerned, and she felt another unwilling blossoming of hope, knowing too much of her happiness rode on this man. Yet when she lifted her eyes to his, there was nothing but sincerity reflected in them, and she knew, despite anything he might have done to her before, that he would never lie to her about this.

"Okay", she said softly, nodding, furrowing her brow.

"Okay", he repeated, quirking a small, reassuring smile. His lips were drawn to hers again, for a fleeting moment.

He broke away first, turning around before they became lost in each other's arms, a dangerous distraction that they could not indulge in when there were so many others things at stake.

"Grissom", she said softly, calling him back, making him stop in the doorway.

He knew, if she asked him to, he would drop everything for her at that moment. He turned slowly to face her, struggling to remove himself from the beauty of her form. She was swathed like a Greek Goddess in the white sheet, emphasising the deep, glistening brown of her eyes, the eyes that managed to cause him more weakness than her body ever could.

"I didn't know this was going to happen… when I asked to come here with you".

He smiled slightly, a weak, gentle turn of his lips. He was touched that she wanted to reassure him, that she attempted to extend some measure of trust. "I know".

He turned again, and he was gone, closing the door softly behind him.

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He had to brace himself to have this conversation. The previous euphoria from his new, unexpected union with Sara paled slightly when he remembered the potential damage he had done to both of their careers, and he dialled the familiar numbers with more than a small level of apprehension.

"Yes?"

Ecklie's smarmy voice was unmistakable, and he leant against the outer wall of the motel, drawing in a deep breath before forcing himself to speak. "You wanted to speak to me, Conrad?"

The explosion was almost immediate. There was no other way to describe it. "You better have a good Goddamn explanation as to where you are, Grissom! You have about ten seconds to convince me not to fire you!"

Usually he took great joy in Conrad's frustration, but there was just too much at stake this time. "I'm pursuing a lead, Conrad. On my own time. These nothing unscrupulous about what I'm doing".

"Oh, I beg to differ. You've crossed over into another jurisdiction to conduct an unwarranted investigation, one you're not even _on_ any more! And don't even tell me I can believe that pathetic story that Sidle just happens to have leave at the same time, when nightshift is already understaffed."

Grissom was tempted to ask him whose fault that was, but wisely bit his tongue.

"You can play around with your subordinates all you want _off_ county time, Grissom, but _not_ on one of my cases you won't, you got that? You have four hours to get back to Las Vegas, during which time I will determine whether or not it is necessary for both of you to continue your leave. Only this time I think it would be more fitting to call it an unpaid suspension, pending further inquiry."

"Maybe you should listen to me for a second, Conrad," Grissom said curtly. "You are not going to suspend me, and you are not going to suspend Sara. We have found more evidence in this town of foul play in two days than in the past two months we spent on the investigation."

Ecklie took the time to pause, sounding carefully irritable when he spoke again. "What kind of evidence?"

"A girl disappeared here six months ago, matching the description of our Jane Doe perfectly. The townspeople, including the girl's own family; seem to think that she was murdered shortly after that time and buried here. Yet we have reason to believe she was on her way to Las Vegas when she was allegedly killed. The only way to positively identify this woman as the same body we recovered in Henderson is to exhume her corpse".

Ecklie sounded positively livid. "Gil, I know it must be the altitude up there that is causing me to hear you say these things, because are you insane? You expect me to summon up a court order just because you found a doppelganger that happens to match our dead girl?"

"Perhaps I'm not making myself clear, Conrad. I am willing to face up to the consequences of my actions when I return to the lab. But I want this case put to rest. You may believe me to be politically tone-deaf, but I can call in a few favours if I have to, Ecklie."

"Is that a threat, Grissom?"

"Interpret it any way you wish".

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

"All right. I'll get your court order. But there will be consequences. Mark my words".

There was a click as he hung up the phone, and Grissom slowly sagged against the wall, releasing an unsteady, disbelievingly breath. He realised that he had at least somewhat beaten Ecklie at his own game. It was a small victory, and he knew it would be short-lived, but it felt strangely liberating.

The door to the adjoining room opened, and Sara stepped out into the sunlight, pulling the door closed behind her as she slid her shades over her head.

She glanced at him, lifting an eyebrow questioningly as she came to a halt at his side. She was the picture of calm, as if he didn't hold the very fate of her career in his hands. He briefly found the time to marvel at her trust, and for once in his life, felt a profound need to earn it fully.

"So?" she asked expectantly.

He smiled slightly, unable to kept the exaltation from his eyes as he did. "I believe we have a body to exhume".

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	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **See chapter one.

**Chapter ten**

Overhanging trees right next to the modest cemetery shrouded the town's only church. It was a reasonably dilapidated building, constructed of weathered brick and slate. The windows were frosted with old stained glass, some cracked with age and yet to be replaced.

It was under the shade of the church that they stood, hovering silently over Hayley Barton's granite headstone.  
The Sheriff did not look happy. He stood to one side, features twisted in a grim scowl, obviously displeased by his unnegotiable orders. 

The cemetery buzzed with officers as they crowded over the humble gravesite, shovels sliding against dirt as they worked with graceless rhythm. The proximity between surrounding headstones was so narrow that an excavator was out of the question, so the Sheriff had his men digging by hand.

Sara and Grissom stood quietly on the other side of the wide opening, the smell of earth pungent in the air. They were just touching, warming each other's sides with mere physical contact, for once free from any added tension.

Sara couldn't believe how normal things felt between them; how utterly natural their interactions had become.

Time had taken on an almost limitless quality in this dreamlike place among the trees and the heavens, and she did nothing but savour it, ignoring the fact that home and Las Vegas beckoned on the horizon, and with them, harsh, bitterly unwelcome reality and the uncertain future of their relationship.

Sara shifted, sparing another brief glance at Sheriff Waters, taking in the heavy glower on his raw-boned features as he presided over his men at the head of the grave, arms folded severely.

She was aware that there were several strict protocols to follow when exhumation was undertaken, and they had already breached several of these in dealing with the stalwart, ignorant man. Ecklie had attained a court order from the Nye County authorities in record time, under Grissom's mysterious threat, and she only hoped their current circumstances would not sabotage their efforts.

"I hope you realise how disrespectful this all is", Waters said bluntly, voice carrying to the two of them over the rush of shovels. "Sylvia Barton is a God-fearing woman. She is not going to be very happy."

"In the interest of justice, I'm sure she will understand", Grissom responded calmly.

Sara had been raised with certain Catholic values, and she understood that what they were doing was seen as blatant sacrilege. But her faith was shaky at best. She was a witness to the violence and evils of mankind from an early age, and there was nothing that she believed in more strongly than justice.

The shovels gave a metallic clang as they connected abruptly against wood, and the officers stopped their mechanical movements swiftly. "I think we're there, Sheriff".

They squatted on their hands and knees over the casket, brushing the remaining dirt and grime from the top with their hands while waiting for his order.

Waters pursed his lips, face taken even grimmer by their discovery, and glanced over at Grissom and Sara a moment before speaking. "Okay. Open it up, boys".

Grissom frowned, body shifting noticeably out of protest. She knew he was tired of the constant stonewalls they had been confronted with in this place. She thought that if there was one thing gained from this trip, it might be that he would have more respect for the inner workings of Las Vegas when they returned. "Uh, excuse me, but you can't open it here".

The Sheriff stared at him, waving him off impatiently. "I'm sure you can see whatever it is you need to see right here."

"No, I don't think so. We need to take the body in for proper analysis".

The Sheriff gave him a withering look, pursing his dry, parched lips as a gust of wind disrupted the loose earth. "You're really starting to try my patience, Mr. Grissom", he snapped tersely. "In case you haven't noticed, we don't have a lab, or the equipment you and your partner are going to need around here. Now you can either look at it right here, or you can call up your big city boss."

Grissom clenched his jaw, his own patience obviously reaching its limit, and could do nothing but slowly nod his assent.

One of the officers crouched by the side of the coffin, levering a crowbar into the wooden opening. His upper arms bristled with effort as he wedged it inside, and suddenly the lid gave and flew open, slapping as it connected with the opposite dirt wall. Sara felt herself wince, wondering which of them was really being disrespectful.

There was a collective silence as they all bent forward, and Sara removed her sunglasses all together as her eyebrows drew together incredulously, taking in the sight before her.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me".

Grissom's mouth opened in mute surprise, blue eyes scanning the inside of the coffin from head to foot, as he too struggled to comprehend what it was he was seeing.

The inside of the casket was lined with about five inches of dirt, packed inside with the obvious intent to match the weight of a fully-grown female body.

Other than that, it was completely empty.

"Well", Grissom said, working his jaw in a state of suspended disbelief as he drew his words out slowly, lifting his gaze to meet with Waters'. "You were right about being able to see everything from here".

"What the hell?" the Sheriff muttered, wiping his sleeve over his forehead as if to wipe the nonexistent sweat, shaking his head nervously.

Grissom narrowed his eyes, stepping forward brusquely. "Would you care to explain to me how you managed to bury a coffin full of _dirt_ instead of a dead girl?"

"I have no idea", Waters snapped, sounding oddly defensive. "I don't understand how this could have happened".

"Wouldn't someone be able to feel the difference?" Sara prompted pointedly. "Whoever was in charge of this?"

"Unless it was done intentionally", Grissom said flatly.

The Sheriff stepped back from the gaping hole, as if he could remove its reality by removing it from his sight. "Now wait a minute. That's about all I'm gonna hear from you two. If you want to make some kind of accusation…"

"We don't need to", Grissom interrupted curtly. "The evidence will do that for us".

"What do you mean?" Waters asked, caught off-guard.

"Fingerprints, fibres, hairs", Grissom explained patiently. "Anything the perpetrator left behind, we can find inside the casket, and link them to him".

The Sheriff twisted his mouth, gaze darting between them carefully. After a long, heavy moment, he nodded his approval. "Well, good. That'll teach the grave-robbing sons a bitches to steal in my town!"

Grissom and Sara exchanged a wary glance, and the Sheriff headed for his cruiser, ordering several officers to stay with them while they collected their evidence. Obviously, he had no intention of hanging around himself.

Sara shot Grissom a look as they slid out of earshot, eyes drifting down over the open grave as if it held all of their answers.

"Okay", she said sardonically. "Well, we know one thing for sure now. Hayley Barton and our dead girl are definitely the same person".

000000000000

Six months of potential decomposition obviously hindered their ability to collect lasting physical evidence.

Of course, that didn't stop them from trying. And it didn't stop them from allowing the Sheriff to believe that they would uncover something incriminating.

Sara folded her sleeves over her elbows, crouching down low over the open casket as she lowered her tweezers onto something caught on the splintered wood inside.

She lifted it more closely to her gaze, feeling a smile quirk at her lips when she recognised it for what it was. "Got a fibre", she reported, leaning back up onto the surface to collect an evidence bag from her kit.

Grissom glanced at her briefly, feeling an answering smile tug at his lips. The space between them was cramped, and they stood inside the narrow opening at opposite ends. "Material?"

"Nylon, I think. I guess we can send it back to the Toonopah lab for analysis, anyway".

They were wary about trusting another lab to handle this case. It was clear someone had already worked very hard to cover up whatever had happened to Hayley Barton.

"I don't get this", she said, glancing up to make sure Waters' officers couldn't overhear their conversation. "Obviously, the Sheriff has a lot of leeway here. But there would still have to be a good number of people involved to pull something like this off… I mean, if he is responsible."

"Eildenbrook is so small that the mortuary and the coroner both work directly under the Sheriff. If it was his intention to… fabricate this girl's death, it wouldn't be very difficult."

"Well, if he is responsible, he's being pretty calm about letting us look for evidence."

"Maybe he thinks we aren't going to find anything. Or, maybe he wasn't the perpetrator".

She twisted her features in a frown, sealing the plastic bag and carefully placing it back into her kit. "Who else would it be?"

"People can be very different under the surface than they might seem."

She smiled dimly at his reference, wondering if it held some deeper significance. She met Grissom's gaze, almost swallowing under its searing heat, convincing herself that it did.

"Well", she said, clearing her throat quickly, and forcing her mind back onto their work. "If someone really did… orchestrate this, why would they go to such elaborate lengths? And why would Hayley's body turn up in Vegas six months later?"

Grissom sighed, shaking his head. This case was starting to elude even him, and it bothered him more than he liked.

00000000

The Eildenbrook tavern as it was known, was clustered with several leather booths, and Grissom and Sara sat in one, eating in quiet contemplation as they pondered the details of their case.

Sara pushed her garden salad around on her plate, finding it difficult to muster up an appetite. Grissom looked equally subdued, and she could recognise the familiar signs of his frustration as it was beginning to show.

"I think we're looking at this from the wrong angle".

He lifted his head at her voice, blue eyes flickering over hers with faint intrigue. She resisted a smile, marvelling once again at how well they complimented each other professionally. A personal relationship would surely make problems with that. Or, she considered vaguely, it could make them only stronger.

"Whoever orchestrated Hayley's so-called death, did it after she left for Vegas", she said slowly. "Without knowing what happened to her after that, we're pretty much shooting at fish in barrels."

His features drew together in a thoughtful frown, and a small smile quirked at the corner of his lips when he came up with his solution. "I'll be back in a minute".

She blinked, staring after him in perplexity as he strode past the row of booths, in the direction of the restrooms and a lone payphone in the far corner. "Um, okay. Glad to help".

Grissom slid several pieces of change into the slot, dialling the numbers he had long since memorized and waiting patiently for the familiar voice to respond.

"Yeah, Willows".

He lifted an eyebrow at her brisk tone, but went on nonetheless. "Hey, Cath".

He perceived the sound of her dropping something abruptly on her desk-- presumedly a mug of her standard black coffee. "I don't know what the hell you said to Ecklie, but it's working. He's really on the warpath now. He reduced a lab intern to tears this morning because she forgot to restock his pencils".

He winced, understanding that he had played a significant role in making the atmosphere at the lab even more intense. "He'll calm down, eventually. Just advise everyone to stay out of his way until he does."

"One step ahead of you, Gil. You're not going to tell me what you said, are you?"

"No."

"Yeah, typical. So, what's up?"

"I need a favour".

She paused, and her voice took on a lighter, teasing quality. "Say, Gil, you sound awfully chipper. Things going okay down in redneckville?"

"Yes. Fine".

"I'll bet. What did you do?"

Grissom blinked at Catherine's tone, sighing impatiently. As much as he enjoyed her banter, their case was making him far too preoccupied to tolerate it right then. "What?"

"Grissom, I'll give you a clue. Chipper and you, are not words I would have considered putting in the same sentence five minutes ago. What did you do?"

"Catherine, I don't know what you are talking about--?"

Her sharp gasp cut through his procrastination before he could finish. He closed his eyes, realising from firsthand experience with Catherine that something he was not prepared to deal with was about to come his way.

"You got _laid_, didn't you?"

If he could have made a noise, he would have choked. As it was, he could only let out a rasped whisper. "_Excuse me_?"

Her disbelieving laugh told him his pathetic attempt to dissuade her had been unsuccessful. "Oh my _GOD_, you got laid!"

He sincerely hoped she was alone in her office. He carefully cleared his throat, discomfort growing considerably. "Catherine, I have no idea what would possibly make you assume that…"

She scoffed, sounding highly amused, and oddly, relieved. "Grissom, you have been alone with Sara for _three_ _days_. If you _didn't_ get laid, I would be seriously concerned."

He went silent, feeling his gaze unwilling drawn to Sara around the corner. She was staring distantly out the side window, preoccupied by something out of his line of sight. Her soft brown hair shone in the filtering sunlight, and he remembered running his fingers through it the night before. He quickly looked away, deciding that acknowledging Catherine's comment was a bad idea. "Catherine, I need you to help me with this case".

He heard her chuckle distantly, but she followed his example, picking up her end of the conversation. "I have my own cases to deal with, in case you have forgotten what being a supervisor involves these days."

"I understand that, and this is strictly off the books. I just need you to do a little research for me. It doesn't involve much, I promise".

She sighed deeply, and he sensed her weariness too. He had tried to warn her what being a supervisor would entail. It was always difficult to convince Catherine of these things. "Okay. What do I have to do?"

"I need you to talk to a man called Marcus Henway. He's involved in a religious faction that resides somewhere on the fringes of Vegas, around Lake Mead."

"The cult thing, right? Yeah, Greg was telling us about it".

"Do you think you could do that?"

She paused, and then released another long-suffering sigh. "Sure. It might put a little variety into my day. I'll take Warrick. He's always up for a little excursion."

"Thanks, Cath".

"Yeah, I'll hold you to that. One more thing, Gil."

His silence prompted her on. "Don't screw it up with our little Miss Sidle, okay? We want to be able to work when you guys get back to the office."

With that final piece of advice, she hung up the phone on her end, and the dial tone clicked dully in his ear. He sighed, lowering the phone as he heard the coins collapse inside the device. He was momentarily offended that she thought he would do that to Sara, and then he reconsidered, feeling his gaze drawn back to the woman in question.

He was guilty of much more.

He sighed deeply, lowering his gaze. He wasn't comfortable with regularly acknowledging his emotions, but he understood that for them to have a healthy, working relationship, some things had to change.

For her, he was willing to try that.

00000000


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **See chapter one.  
**Author's Note:** I thought for a change of pace, I would make this chapter back in Las Vegas. Yo!blingers; be pleasantly surprised ;)  
Thanks to ScullyasTrinity for the rec at YTDAW :)

**Chapter eleven**

"You know, for something that sounds so Marilyn-Mansonish-hates-the-world, I was imagining this place to be a little less trailer-park".

Warrick chuckled quietly as he followed Catherine from their parked Tahoe, feeling the desert sun beating relentlessly on his bare arms and through his thin t-shirt. His dark sunglasses protected his eyes, and he surveyed their surroundings through their shade, silently agreeing with Catherine's observation.

He had seen a lot of things in his line of work, and Greg's bizarre descriptions had made this organisation sound much more threatening than it clearly was.

The lines of trailers were covered in dust and grime, arranged at haphazard angles that suggested a vague sort of hierarchy. Patchy trees offered brief respite from the sun, and its isolation promised harsh coldness at night. One thing he could agree on was that these people would have to be pretty obsessive personalities to be able to handle the harsh Nevada elements with such little protection.

One trailer, almost in the very centre of the park, displayed a peculiar-looking inverted pentagram over the door and adjoining walls. Its substance looked distinctly like blood. Greg had explained to him that it was the symbol for the Church of Satan, often mixed up with the similar, but differing symbol for Paganism.

"Think that's Henway's home away from home?" Catherine guessed, lifting a shrewd, slender eyebrow.

Warrick slid off his sunglasses, blinking momentarily against the dazzling overhead sunlight as he bent forward for a closer look. Catherine reached into the jacket of her LVPD vest, removing a swab. She rubbed the cue-tip over the red substance, and tested it for blood. She smirked at the reading. "It's not human", she announced.

"Good to know", Warrick replied dryly, taking a step back. He glanced at Catherine briefly, before tapping loudly on the door. "Las Vegas Crimelab, open up".

They waited a moment, and the screen door screeched terribly as it was opened from the other side.

Marcus Henway proved to be yet another contradiction. He looked more like a gang member than a cult leader, with raw, thick stubble and big, bristling muscles. A tattoo similar to the symbol on his door marked his upper left arm, and he wore a black wifebeater and torn jeans.

"Are you Marcus Henway?" Catherine asked, tilting her head.

"If you're with the police, I've got nothing to say to you", he said curtly, dark, brown eyes scanning over them warily.

His accent, unlike his appearance, was conspicuously educated, with faint Southern origins. Warrick glanced at Catherine, whose green eyes flickered with newfound interest.

"I'm Warrick Brown, this is Catherine Willows. We're with the crimelab", he explained politely. "We just want to ask you a few questions about a homicide that occurred about six months ago".

Henway leant against the outer door, coming to rest on the bottom step. "What makes you think I would know anything about that?" he said coolly.

"We have no interest in making you a suspect", Catherine said carefully. She kept her features perfectly casual, and he smirked inwardly. She always knew how to charm them. "We're just looking for some information".

Henway's army boots disrupted the dusty earth as he dropped abruptly on the ground, and Warrick saw Catherine flinch slightly in the corner of his eye. He nodded slowly. "All right. What would you like to know?"

Warrick spoke up first, feeling the weight of his gun press reassuringly into his side. "How do you go about recruiting people into your, uh… organisation?"

Henway turned his attention over to him, and looked vaguely amused. "You're sceptical. That's understandable. Christianity has caused a lot of misconceptions on Satanism."

Catherine lifted an eyebrow, looking suitably intrigued. "How so?"

"They see us with horns and tails and consider us child molesters and butcherers. It has nothing to do with that. We don't believe in that kind of mindless violence."

"Really?" she said. "So what, exactly, do you believe in?"

He shrugged. "We believe in fulfilling the pleasures of the flesh. While Christianity condemns this as sinful, most of the population does it anyway. We just enable it into our beliefs system. We don't believe in restraint. But we also don't tolerate ignorance or lack of physical aesthetics."

Catherine lifted a disbelieving eyebrow. "So you don't believe that people should be physically unattractive?"

"And the rest of society doesn't? We merely encourage physical beauty to enhance our lesser magical aura. Our beliefs system revolves around following eleven satanic rules of the earth, and avoiding nine basic sins, these included. They were written by Anton LaVey in 1967 and we consider this our bible, just as Christians believe in theirs. As long as those who want to join abide by our principles, they are free to become involved".

Catherine shot Warrick a quick look, and he lifted his shoulders in response.

She cleared her throat. "Does this include underage participants?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes there are teenagers, but most of them are what we would call posers and are rarely accepted into our group. We only take on those who have proven that they are dedicated to our religion, and who understand exactly what is involved."

Catherine nodded, blond locks glimmering in the sun. "And everyone lives here, together?"

He shook his head. "There are several members who decline living in such confinement, and we can respect that."

"Which is why you often hold meetings in Vegas?" Warrick guessed.

He nodded. "All low-key, of course. Our numbers are extremely small, and people rarely understand our position. Luckily for us, it's not difficult to hide unusual passions in Las Vegas."

Warrick couldn't argue with that. "Do you remember a young girl called Hayley Barton? She came from a small town in Northern Nevada. We believe she travelled here to become involved with your group".

Henway frowned, considering. "The name does sound familiar. Yes, I think I remember her. She was here for a few months. She was a very active participant, and she believed fully in the faith. She disappeared a few months ago".

"You didn't find that unusual?"

He glanced at Catherine, eyes piercing into her intently. Warrick shifted uncomfortably. There was something very eerie about this man, and listening to him talk only made it more so.

And he really didn't like the way he was looking at Catherine.

"People disappear all the time, Ms Willows", Henway said frankly. "They find the lifestyle doesn't suit them, or they have people who take them back to wherever it is they came from because they can't understand what it is we do. We can't force them to stay. That's not our job".

Catherine nodded, slowly, taking a subtle step back. "Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Henway".

"Of course." He paused visibly. "There is someone who might help you. Adelaide Faris. She's a disillusioned member who lives downtown. From what I remember, she was fairly friendly with Hayley before she left".

Catherine glanced back at Warrick, who nodded in response. "Thank you".

He offered a brief wave, disappearing back inside his trailer with a resounding slam.

"Well", the blonde said slowly, following him as they strode back through the park. "That was one mondo bizarro guy".

"And this is a messed up circus he has going on around here", Warrick added, feeling her warmth brush against his side as they rounded a corner. "He actually believes all of that crap?"

"Apparently. And so do all of these people", she mused, glancing around vaguely. "I guess this would be about when Grissom starts saying that the great leaders of our time have been very persuasive, blah blah blah."

Warrick smirked in amusement. He missed moments like this, when they could investigate as colleagues with all of their friendly banter, and not as boss and subordinate. "I guess it's a good thing he's not here then".

"Hmm. I just hope he's grateful for this. I have a feeling our job isn't over yet."

"You don't think Henway would have let someone go that easily, do you? There's no way they aren't involved in something illegal, all the way out here."

She smiled grimly. "Why do you think I said our job isn't over?"

00000000

It was places like this that reminded him how seedy Las Vegas really was. Adelaide Faris' cheap apartment building was surrounded by a sea of equally run down apartments, liquor stores, strip clubs and motels.

This time they had an officer with them, and he rapped on the door of Adelaide's apartment. They waited at least five full minutes before a woman peered through the crack in the door, face partially obscured and chain firmly in place.

She had dark rings under her eyes, and oily, messy hair. Warrick estimated her age to be about nineteen, but she looked a lot older.

"What do you want?" she rasped, bloodshot eyes darting over the three of them.

The officer glanced back at them, flashing his badge pointedly. "Las Vegas police, ma'am. We need to ask you a few questions".

She frowned, closing the door, and opening it again a moment later.

The officer waited by the door as Catherine and Warrick stepped inside, struggling not to take in the mess around them. Rotting food and used liquor bottles littered the floor, along with rumpled clothing and trash. The stench was overpowering, and both of them, well practiced in dealing with decomposing flesh, breathed in carefully through their mouths.

"Did you know a woman called Hayley Barton?" Catherine started cautiously.

Adelaide paused, nudging her way through a path in the junk, turning to look at them. She surprised them, letting out a short, humourless laugh. "He sent you here, didn't he?"

They exchanged a surprised glance, eyeing her carefully. "What makes you think that?"

She scoffed. "I was stupid. She was too. She found out about Satanism through some boy in her town, and she decided the run away from her psycho grandmother and join LaVey's Order. I'd only been there about a week when I met her. We thought it was the perfect escape from our crappy lives. God, we were stupid".

She rummaged around on her battered sofa, finally uncovering a packet of half-used cigarettes. Her hands shook as she slid one out, and struggled to light it in her mouth.

She closed her eyes, briefly savouring the taste before exhaling in the air between them. "We lasted about a month before things started to get… bad. Marcus was strict about a lot of things. Rule number three in particular".

"Rule number three?" Warrick prompted, confused.

Adelaide scoffed. "If in someone else's territory treat them with respect for they are protecting you. Satanists believe in expressing and releasing sexual energy. Marcus was big on this 'moral teaching' or whatever crap he liked to call it. He had a group of younger girls who he used as his own personal sex slaves. And since we had no family to watch out for us, he brought us into it too. We couldn't argue because… he gave us everything. He made us rely on him. Food, shelter, clothes. We had _nothing_ without him."

She looked away, clearly pained by the memory. "Hayley was a little smarter than I was. She ran away first. I heard she was living on the streets for about a week before he found her."

She fell into a defeated slump on the edge of her sofa. "I wish I could have done something."

Catherine stared at Warrick, outrage and disbelief fighting for residence on her features. "You uh, feel comfortable enough to share this with us now? What… changed?"

Adelaide looked around pointedly. "I got nothing left to lose now, anyway. Least I can do is help you find Hayley's killer. Maybe save other girls from the same thing I had to live with".

Warrick found himself disgusted by the extremes religion could force people into, but forced his mind away from this revelation long enough to latch onto something Adelaide had said. "Did you say her grandmother was psycho? Why exactly do you say that?"

Adelaide shrugged. "I heard she used to beat her, make her do everything-- held her prisoner in her own house until she had her afternoon nap and Hayley escaped for a few hours. She had… weird ways of punishing her." She shook her head, looking old and sad. "I guess she traded in one prison for another, didn't she?"

"Yeah", Catherine agreed, deflating grimly. "Until she died".

00000000000


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **See chapter one.  
**Author's Note: **One more after this, guys. Thank you very much for the continualfeedback.

**Chapter twelve**

Sara sat back in the solitary armchair, flipping idly through an old edition of Eildenbrook's town newsletter as Grissom's voice drifted over from the other side of the room.

She had found it stuffed in one of her empty drawers, and scanned the yellowing papers vaguely, dimly recalling how unexciting small town life had been from her own early childhood.

"Can you prove it?"

Grissom's voice rose slightly, and she glanced at him briefly, taking in the surprise in his expression. He shifted, pacing slightly, a gesture she recognised as his attempt to work through unexpected information. "Well, Catherine, good work. I didn't expect you to find anything so quickly".

He muttered a few more goodbyes, snapping the phone closed in his palm. "What happened?" she asked, folding one leg over the other, glancing up at him expectantly.

He lifted an eyebrow, looking somewhat bewildered. "They found Hayley's killer. Marcus Henway. Apparently he lured her and several other girls into sexual slavery, before she tried to escape. They managed to arrest him on sex charges until we can gather enough evidence to convict him of murder."

Sara lifted an eyebrow; equally surprised that Catherine and Warrick's small trip had proven to be so effective.

"So, uh…" She lowered the crinkled paper on her knees, eyeing him uncertainly. "What now?"

"I told Catherine that we had one more thing to take care of before we would be coming back to Vegas".

"Right", Sara agreed, sinking back further in her chair. "The case of the mysterious burial. Or lack of, technically".

Grissom crossed to the double bed in the middle of the room, resting wearily on the edge and eyeing her thoughtfully. "Any theories?"

She lifted an eyebrow, unable to resist a small smirk. "I thought you didn't like theories".

Grissom shrugged, leaning back on one arm. He appeared vaguely amused by her harmless teasing, and she felt her slender frame relax slightly, unable to help the return of her faint feelings of dread when she realised this could all be over all too soon. She really didn't want to return to Vegas. She was sure that she would find this had all been some fantastic, imaginary dream. Or even worse— that Grissom would treat as one.

His blue eyes glimmered as they studied her intently, as if he was reading her thoughts. He suddenly reached out, catching the end of her foot where it rested near the side of the bed. She stared at him in surprise, and he slid his fingers delicately over the curve of her foot, sliding her shoe carefully onto the floor.

"I'm learning to adjust to a lot of things, Ms. Sidle", he said carefully, in a low timbered voice, caressing the arch of her foot.

She shivered, wondering exactly what that meant; what his sudden affection was intended to prove.

She felt her flesh tingle as his hand trailed deftly over her ankle, allowing herself to be dragged forward. When she was close enough, he took her by the hand, pulling her towards him on the bed. His eyes were focused fixedly on her, and she was surprised by the sudden purpose behind them.

Their combined weight sunk into the mattress, and Sara felt the roughness of his stubble brush her cheek as Grissom lifted his lips to hers. She willingly lost herself in the kiss for a moment, lingering over his lips, letting her fingers slide through his silvery curls, rumpled slightly from his movement on the bed.

She broke away first, feeling warmth course through her at their nearness, feeling strangely light and comfortable from her position on top of him. "I thought you wanted to hear my theory", she whispered, voice oddly husky, brushing against his lips.

Her body was warm and pliant against his, and Grissom found it difficult to remember why he had inwardly battled against this for so long. He lifted his palm, lightly tracing the side of her face, brushing his thumb briefly across her lips. "I'm not going to forget this", he said, voice dripping with sincerity and seriousness. "You know that, right?"

She nodded, a little uncertainly; surprised that he could read her well enough to know that she was still feeling insecure. Perhaps he had always been able to read her. Only now was he able to show it.

"I know", she replied softly, looking down. She vaguely straightened his top button, giving herself a reason to avoid his gaze. "I'm just… not used to this. We still… we don't know what we're doing here".

"I told you that we would—"

"Talk about this when we get back to Vegas", she finished, frowning. "Yeah, I know. What does that mean, exactly? Are you going to say that this was a nice time, but that you still can't have a relationship with me, or does this actually mean something to you?"

She drew away from him, feeling the chill of the room immediately envelope her at the loss of their combined heat, releasing a deep sigh as she sat on the bed beside him. Grissom sat up, eyes drifting cautiously over her face. "Is that what you think?"

Sara blinked, glancing at him, taking in the wounded cadence of his husky voice. She laughed softly, a dry, humourless sound. "Judging by our previous track record, uh, yeah, I do."

How had this turned into a conversation about them? They still had a case to solve, and their personal issues could never seem to wait behind.

She felt Grissom's gaze on her, silently, and her frown deepened when she glanced up to meet it. "What?"

"Do you think that after everything that has happened between us, I would allow this to happen and that it would be meaningless?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know", she said, voice small and suddenly child-like. "Would it?"

Instead of showing the frustration she had expected, or worse, the piteous denial, his lips quirked in a small, sad smile, and his broad fingers reached up and gently brushed a stray wisp of hair from her cheek. "God, I love you", he murmured seriously, the words so foreign on his lips it took a moment for them to register in her mind.

Sara blinked, certain she had misheard his statement, eyes opening wide from shock. "_What_?"

He frowned, as if realising what he had just said, mouth opening and closing as if he wasn't quite sure how to handle his unexpected declaration.

Sara didn't allow him to. She shifted onto her knees, crushing her mouth suddenly over his. Grissom tightened his arms around her, surprised by the impulsive movement, amazed by the reaction his words had evoked.

It was the last thing he had been expecting. He had thought if he ever uttered those forbidden words to a woman, she would shy away from him in revulsion, or reject him without hesitation. The barbed wire fence he had kept closed permanently around his heart loosened at Sara's soft, gentle touch, and he knew that he could never rebuild it again.

Her arms slipped around his neck, and it was as if his confession had released a torrent of all of her unspoken emotions. He responded with equal fervour, amazed by the utter release he felt in the wake of his words. He did love her. His feelings for her had always been so strong, yet so repressed; and he wasn't sure how long he really had.

Their hands roamed each other as they collapsed once more onto the mattress, and after a while, they didn't say anything, falling into a state of such insurmountable bliss that words simply weren't necessary.

0000000000

Sara woke to the waning light of dusk fanning over her face, and she shifted, rolling on her back as the sound of the distant shower invaded her consciousness.

She felt a small smile tug at her lips when she realised that three simple words had freed her from any anxiety she might have felt from Grissom's absence. Something vital had shifted in their relationship, and she had never felt more invigorated, thrumming with a newfound, unknown appreciation for her life.

She slid off the bed, lazily crossing the room to grab a new set of clothes from her unpacked suitcase in the corner. Something crunched loudly under her foot as she rounded the bed, and she frowned, glancing down at the Eildenbrook newsletter she had abandoned a few hours before.

She bent to retrieve it, glancing up at the bathroom when she heard the water flow stop. Her gaze drifted down over the paper as she came to a halt in front of her suitcase, and she blinked in surprise.

Quickly, she tugged on a pair of jeans, and was about to button the rest of her shirt when the door to the bathroom opened.

Her head darted up, meeting Grissom's surprised gaze, and she snatched up the paper again, staring at him in disbelief. "You are not going to believe this".

She shoved the paper into his hands, buttoning up the rest of her shirt as she waited for him to make the same connection.

His eyes lifted again, widening in surprise.

"I'll drive", he announced abruptly, moving towards the bedside drawers where he had left his keys. Sara worked her fingers quickly through her hair, already behind him on his way to the door.

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The Sheriff's office was dimly lit, but it was clear they had caught Waters before he made his trek home.

Grissom pulled his SUV to a halt on the dusty road outside his office, empty except for Waters' now familiar cruiser, and the two of them strode briskly towards the back of the building.

Waters sat behind his desk, office door wide open, chewing a wad of gum and grinding his mouth with obnoxious noise, glancing something over with intense concentration.

He glanced up at the sound of their entrance, brow furrowing together in mild surprise and subsequent annoyance. "Well. Mr. Grissom. Ms. Sidle. To what do I owe this visit? Come to make any more accusations?"

"Bobby Harley is your nephew", Sara said abruptly, cutting off any further attempt at inadequate pleasantries. "There's a photograph of you together in one of the town's old newsletters".

Waters blinked, considerably perplexed. It was obviously not the kind of allegation he had been expecting. He laughed, a short, low, raucous sound, an obvious indication that he was going to mock their attempts to indict him. "Yeah. His mother is my sister. That's not exactly news".

"He was the one to find Hayley Barton's body", Grissom surmised bluntly. In his dealings with the Sheriff had lost all remnants of his patience. "Correct?"

The Sheriff stared at them impatiently, tapping a pen nonchalantly against the top of his desk. "Yes. She was located on the edge of his father's property."

"Hayley became involved in Satanism through a boy she knew in this town", Sara stated flatly. "Obviously she wouldn't have access to that kind of material at her grandmother's house. But a rich boy like Bobby – he would have the Internet, wouldn't he? He would be able to get into contact with people who run that kind of organisation".

Waters pursed his lips, remaining silent.

"Hayley's grandmother beat her, didn't she?" Sara pressed on, eyes narrowing angrily. "She physically abused her, and Hayley would have done anything to get away".

Her eyes darkened slightly, and Grissom wondered if she was speaking from personal experience. He carefully stepped forward. "Bobby wanted to help her. They decided to fabricate her death-- make her grandmother believe that she was murdered. Being the Sheriff's nephew must have certain advantages. They asked you to help them."

"And you agreed", Sara added darkly. "Because you knew what was happening all that time, and you didn't do anything about it".

"You would only need to enlist the help of a few close employees", Grissom said. "I'll bet that the fibre we found could be traced back to one of them. Someone who probably isn't you, because you weren't too worried about us finding it in the first place."

"The church custodian", Waters muttered, at last. "He died last month".

Sara nodded. "And you sold the property as quickly as possible. If the real authorities ever decided to start a valid investigation, all of the evidence would be gone".

Grissom and Sara grew silent, satisfied that they had spun their tale long enough. The Sheriff shifted in his chair, leaning back, looking infinitely tired. "Her grandfather was a respected member of the farming community, when he was alive", he said with a sigh. "What happened in his house was his business. What his wife did… was her business".

Sara glared at him. "She abused an innocent teenage girl who had just lost her mother. You're the Sheriff. How is that not your business?"

"I did what I could", he said, wearily. "When Bobby asked for my help… I couldn't turn him down. He would have found another way to do it if I did. And then he would be in a lot more trouble. He would have lost his only chance of getting out of this place."

Grissom and Sara exchanged a glance, mildly horrified by his reasoning. "And if you had intervened in the first place, Hayley would have had a chance too", Sara snapped. "And she wouldn't be dead."

He stared distantly at something on his desk, unable to argue, but unable to defend himself either. Sara stared at him, the victory of their resolution sour in her mind when she realised how many people had been forced to pay the bitter price in the process. And that one innocent, misledteenage girl had been the cause of so much madness.

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	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **See chapter one.  
**Author's Note: **You guys blow me away with your feedback. I hope you enjoyed the ride. I know I did.

**Chapter thirteen**

"You ready to go?"

Sara glanced back as Grissom's gentle voice interrupted her inner musings. She gave her nondescript motel room one last scan, nodding quickly. "Yeah. I'm good to go".

They checked out, much to the pleasure of their ill-tempered motel manager, and they cruised down the main street of Eildenbrook one last time, tank full of gas. Sara felt mixed emotions about leaving. She was more than happy to leave the slightly eerie, closeted small town behind in her memories, but there was a certain level of nostalgia attached to it when she considered the life changing events it had incurred.

They passed the winding stretch of road that eventually led to Sylvia Barton's ramshackle house, and Sara released a quiet, mournful sigh.

She felt Grissom's attention on her, and glanced at him questioningly. "What?"

He lifted an eyebrow, urging forth the inner diatribe he knew was inevitable. She sighed again, this one filled with weariness beyond her age. "It just doesn't seem fair. That Hayley's grandmother will never be punished for what she did. Even if we had the time to prove it… she's too old for a jury to ever consider a conviction".

Grissom shrugged, looking unusually calm about the circumstances, considering the inner passion that had brought them there. "She lives on the edge of civilisation, without anyone to ever visit her, and only her cats for company. She's destined to die alone. That is her prison".

Sara lifted an eyebrow, strangely comforted by his rationale. "So you think that's punishment, then?" she prompted casually. "Being alone?"

He removed his gaze from the road ahead to shoot her a brief look, and she smiled to herself, contented with the minute response he gave her. "Good to know", she murmured, mostly to herself, returning her attention to the passing scenery.

She knew he was worried that she was over-identifying with Hayley a little, that her empathy was one day going to be the cause of her burnout. She couldn't pacify him on that front, so she maintained her silence. There were many obvious parallels between their lives. They were both forced to live in a household of violence, abused by close family members, those who should have been trusted, not feared. They had both been forced out of their home situations; Sara by a murder, Hayley by necessity. But Sara had escaped the hold of her past, and had managed to recover herself in the wake of the wreckage, damaged but living. Hayley dug herself into a deeper hole, and her ability to trust was what ended her life.

They were forced to leave Sheriff Waters' fate to the Tonopah authorities, but it was likely he would lose his badge, if nothing else. Sara was satisfied with that punishment, at least for the time being. She believed that power should be wielded by those worthy, not those who acted by their own impulses.

She frowned, eyes drifting vaguely over the lush greenery surrounding them, a direct contradiction to the endless desert only several hours ahead.

She remembered the night before, treasuring it in her memory as perhaps the first time she ever felt truly at home, content in her own skin. They had momentarily avoided the fact that, at least until they returned, their professional future was in limbo.

Now however, all of the things she had previously dismissed as minor problems for their relationship threatened to plague her with anxiety. She knew why. She self-sabotaged any of her efforts to make herself happy. And she knew today, she was for perhaps the first time in her life, on the road to potential happiness.

"What's going to happen when we get back?" she asked Grissom, bringing voice to her thoughts, furrowing her brow. "Ecklie's going to want to take some kind of disciplinary action." She felt uneasiness well inside her stomach. "Even if he doesn't fire you, he's definitely going to want to fire me".

"Technically, you were right when you said we weren't doing anything wrong", Grissom argued carefully. "We're on genuine leave time, of which both of us have plenty. And we solved a case that was making the department look bad, which was the reason Ecklie closed it in the first place. And… I took care of our job security. At least for the immediate future."

Sara twisted in her seat, ignoring the sudden awkwardness of the seatbelt around her midsection. "What do you mean by that?"

He looked distinctly uncomfortable by her sudden line of questioning. "I do have some political savvy, even if I chose not to use it".

"You _threatened_ him?"

This caused a small smirk. "Threatened is such a strong word".

She put a hand over her face, and didn't know whether to be relieved, grateful, or livid. She decided for a combination of all three. "Grissom, you already risked your job for me once after I was suspended. I don't want you to have to keep doing it because I make dumb decisions".

He shot her a patient look. "Why did you come here, really?"

She stared at him, startled by her own question turned back on her. "I… I came to help you. You couldn't handle this case by yourself".

"That's debatable, but yes, that is part of the reason. You also came to keep an eye on me, because you thought I'd do something crazy".

She opened her mouth, unable to find the words to deny it. Grissom gave a perfunctory nod. "Sara, you feel an obligation to me, and I'm just returning the favour. As far as I'm concerned, this makes us even. Our personal relationship is not going to make me biased towards you, and it is not going to make me use my position over you as some kind of advantage".

She lifted an eyebrow, impressed by his mini-speech. "Did you think that up just then, or have you been stewing on that for a while?"

He blinked, and then settled for an easy smile when he could see she had relaxed back in her seat. "You have no idea how long I've been thinking about that".

Sara smiled vaguely, leaning back in her seat, allowing the lulling movement of the vehicle to relax her. The next time she opened her eyes, it was to the dusty mid-morning skyline of Las Vegas. She had never been happier to see it.

The last few days had been unforgettable and life altering, but there was something to be said for the comfort of returning to normalcy.

She glanced at Grissom in the corner of her eye, who was ostensibly preoccupied with his own thoughts as they took an exit ramp off the I-15.

"Do you want to go straight home or would you like to go to the lab first?"

She blinked, realising that he was paying attention to her after all.

"Um, I think I'd just like to go home", she admitted, stretching some of the kinks out of her leg muscles. "I'm pretty beat."

He nodded in silent agreement, passing the road that would lead them to the lab and continuing along the Strip, towards her apartment complex.

Despite their mutual reassurances, she felt slightly nervous to be back in what had been, for far too long, neutral territory between them. The familiarity of the passing Stratosphere and looming casinos couldn't quite quell her faint agitation, and she ignored the feeling, intent on reminding herself of all of the unrequited luxuries her home promised on arrival.

Grissom drew to a halt in a parking space out the front of her apartment. Silently, he got out of the car to help her with her bags, even though she only had a suitcase and a duffle bag.

Her apartment was in much the state she had left it, and she placed her keys on the counter before depositing her suitcase near the door. She glanced back at Grissom, who took this as his cue to do the same, taking in the familiar, inviting hues of her apartment and feminine flourishes and touches that gave it the warmth he associated with Sara's personality.

This was only the second time he had been there, and he wanted to soak it in, give himself some proper insight into the Sara he wanted to know, not the one he already did.

She stopped in the centre of her living room, turning to face him, and he turned to her. It was strange. After being together for so long, she wasn't quite ready for him to leave just yet. "Do you want to um, stay for a while?" she asked hesitantly. "For coffee, or… tea or something?"

"I was thinking that I might just get a bit of sleep", he said gently.

"Oh". She blinked, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice. "Yeah. Sure".

Her unhappiness was like a wound to his side, and the need to see her face light up in pleasure, for him, was too much for him to ignore.

"We can do that here, can't we?"

"Oh". She smiled, pleasantly surprised. "Yeah".

He shot her a teasing smile, the kind of free, flirtatious gesture she had missed with a pang in her heart after all of these years of tension.

"And rest is not code for anything else, Sara".

She blinked, taken aback by his openness, unable to stop a wide, girlish grin from spreading over her features. "I wouldn't dream of it".

"Good. We do still have to go to work tonight".

He asked to use her bathroom, and she gestured him in its general direction before glancing around at her apartment in his wake, inadvertently an examination that almost mirrored the manner in which he had done it only moments before.

It was the same small, cosy space, solitude for her in some of her loneliest hours, and yet now, something in it had changed. She felt a small smile touch her lips as she watched the door close behind him, before sagging onto her sofa to check her messages.

It felt like home.

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**FIN**


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